The Heart of Cerridwen
by DarkHrse
Summary: [Completed!] An assassin blackmailed. A princess kidnapped. A knight on a mission. Two men after the same woman. Need I say more?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Ragnarok Online is the intellectual property of Gravity and Myung-Jing-Lee. The aforementioned content is used here without permission, but with no intent of using it to promote or sell anything, including this document.

**Author's Note:** Hi everybody! I wrote this piece with my 11-year-old daughter, who originally came up with the story plot. This was a project she had to do in school. Because we had to keep this story within five chapters, we've had to scrimp a lot on story details and characterization. We hope you enjoy, nevertheless.

**

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THE HEART OF CERRIDWEN**

**_By Kathryn Michelle Ancheta_**

**_Chapter 1_**

The dark figure looked down from atop one of the many stone towers of Prontera Castle that dominated the otherwise spare skyline of Rune-Midgard's central city. His eyes scanned the surroundings. The night was his friend. He was a master of stealth. His senses were highly attuned to every sight, sound and scent. He was the best there was.

The mission objective was simple: capture the beautiful Princess Cerridwen, the only daughter of King Erondral. Although it was simple, its execution was nothing but. That was why he was chosen. With his skills under the cover of darkness, he would have little difficulty in gaining access to the castle. It was getting out equally undetected with the princess in tow that was going to be a bit tricky. Until now.

The mysterious figure raised his eyebrows as he watched with surprise his quarry walking out into the balcony that adjoined her chambers. It was a chilly night, rather unusual at this time of the year, and yet her only protection from the cold was the thin silk robe she wore that left bare much of her slim arms and thighs.

His eyes narrowed as he beheld the princess. He had seen her before in one of her many public appearances. But tonight, she looked different. She was indeed beautiful. She raised her hands, crossing her arms in front of her and began lightly rubbing the skin just below her shoulders as a light cool breeze swept past, causing her long red hair to flow. When in public, her hair was usually tightly braided into a pigtail. Tonight, it was loose, its long tresses softly cascading down her back, almost reaching her waist. The princess was slightly taller than the average maiden of Rune-Midgard. He estimated that she was just below his ear in height, which was especially noteworthy for someone as young as she. She was also quite fair, her skin without blemish.

There was something about her that he couldn't place though. His instincts told him that there was more to her than she let on. He did his research on her, of course. But there was nothing written or said about her that would cause him to be this concerned.

The princess moved closer to the edge of the balcony. His mission just got simpler. He would have to move soon. Surely there would be no other better opportunity than this...

---

Cerridwen looked out the balcony, her green eyes scanning the diminishing bustle of Prontera City. It would never really die down though. Being the central city of Rune-Midgard, there were always people about, no matter how late the hour, going about their businesses, conducting transactions. It was a soothing sight for the 16-year-old who was very rarely given the opportunity to mingle with these people that her father ruled over.

It was her tutor, the Lady Stephanie that instilled in her from a tender age that all life was precious. Lady Stephanie was a beautiful, kind-hearted woman who had a quiet grace and aura that was…compelling. It was she that taught her that every single individual was important. That every single one of these mortals she was watching over mattered. As a result, she had developed a truly deep love for the people.

Her curiosity and desire to be with the people became a problem for her father who became stricter with her as she grew older. It was a dangerous place outside the castle, he would tell her. Not all people were to be trusted, he admonished. She learned from the others, mostly her chambermaids and other servants who had become her dear friends, that her father had many enemies. Everywhere he or she went, they would always be surrounded by a numerous swordsmen and swordswomen. In the beginning, she could not understand why there would be some people who would want to dethrone the King. Such was her ignorance.

Again, it was Lady Stephanie who made her understand the nature of man. And then, it was, when she turned ten, that Lady Stephanie taught her the arts of Priesthood. Lady Stephanie, it turned out, was a Priestess herself. When she later married Lord Renthro, a Knight in the King's Court, she practiced the art less and less.

Because of her enthusiasm and diligence, it wasn't long before the princess had mastered many of the powers of the Priest. And because Lord Renthro decided to also teach her the martial arts of hand-to-hand combat, she became what was commonly known as a Battle Priestess. At first, Cerridwen objected fiercely, insisting that she would never need or want to use force. But Sir Renthro argued that it was for her own protection. Lady Stephanie thought so too. And that was simply that.

By the time Cerridwen was fourteen, she had learned enough to be adept and be considered a full-pledged Priestess. However, because of her young age and more importantly, her identity, the beautiful young princess could not and would not be pledged into the Priest caste.

Rune-Midgard was a land of castes. Every person had to register themselves to the caste that they belonged to. Even thieves had their own caste and every single one of them was registered. Lady Stephanie, in her wisdom, decided that Cerridwen would not be registered.

There were many benefits to being registered, of course. The most important of which was the support one received from caste-mates, all of them willing to share their wisdom, skills and experiences for the benefit of everyone else. Because she had an unquenchable thirst for more knowledge, the princess did her own research and with Lady Stephanie's and Lord Renthro's help, her powers did grow continuously.

This was all a secret though. Not even her father knew of the trainings she's had or the skills she now possessed. She detested having to keep things from her father. She loved him dearly and was very close to him.

She sighed as she took one last look down at the streets of Prontera. She was about to turn around and head back to her chambers when she felt the ominous presence of another. Immediately, her battle senses came alive as she whirled--and gasped!

It was an Assassin! There was no mistaking it! He was tall, lissome and clearly powerful. Cerridwen saw that he was surprised to have been discovered prematurely. It was clearly his intention to attack her before she would have been able to do anything about it. For a second there was a stand off as each one sized up the other.

Cerridwen had no actual battle experience. She wasn't sure she would be able to fend off the Assassin. She had no illusions about whether she would survive this encounter. Assassins were extremely fast and agile. He was also equipped with katars on both arms. A katar was a rectangular device attached to the forearm that housed a long, deadly double-edged blade. He merely had to press a button located at the center of the palm to instantly extend the blade two feet past each fist. Thus far, the Assassin had not yet extended his blades. But she could see that he was already poised to pounce on her.

She had subconsciously stepped backwards and she was surprised to feel the ledge that separated the balcony from the streets more than a hundred feet below. Her eyes widened. It took all of her self control to keep from panicking. Already, she could feel sweat trickling down her back. She swallowed the lump of fear that formed at her throat and faced her attacker.

"Please," she pleaded, "what do you want with me?"

The Assassin merely stared at her and took one step closer. He was less than fifty feet away.

"Don't do this," she said, her fists clenched tightly at her side. "What have I done to you?"

"I mean you no harm, Princess," the Assassin finally spoke. "I am merely following orders to take you back with me." His voice was even, with no trace of malice or malevolence. The red-haired princess clung to that fact desperately as a source of hope.

"Who is ordering you to do this?"

"Just come with me peacefully and quietly and no harm will come to you," he said calmly, walking slowly towards her.

Cerridwen stepped to the side in a feeble attempt to evade her attacker. But the Assassin instantly matched her move and took even one more step closer. "Please, you cannot take me away from here!"

The Assassin narrowed his eyes and made his move, lunging forward, two gloved hands seeking to grab hold of her. He was blindingly fast! But her training compensated and was miraculously able to dodge leaping up and slightly backwards to land lightly on the ledge. No sooner had her toes touched the surface of the ledge did she vault into the air again, executing a clean somersault, twisting and turning above the head of her attacker. She landed behind him, facing his back. In that split second Cerridwen decided that she would not be so lucky the next time the Assassin made his move. Running towards the now open path to her bedchambers and out the door was also out of the question. She would never be able to outrun him. There was only one thing to do. It was something she didn't often do because of the unpredictable results. But she didn't have a choice.

Cerridwen lowered her head and closed her eyes as she raised her hands, clasping them tightly together in front of her, just below the chin, and whispered the chant for the spell. She opened her eyes and looked up across the film of white light that now separated her from her attacker. The Assassin was now facing her, still poised for an attack but standing stock still, astonishment clearly registering in his eyes. And then she was gone.

---

"She's a priestess!" The Assassin wanted to scream in rage. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides.

He knew bits of information about the Priesthood. Although mostly clouded in secrecy, some of the skills of this caste were known to those outside of it. Like the Teleport spell. It was clear that this was the spell the girl used to evade him. She could be anywhere in the castle by now. Or if her powers were that great, she could be anywhere within the city!

Keep your focus, he told himself repeatedly, trying to push back his rage so that his mind could think of the next move. He should have listened to his instincts. He always listened to them. Why didn't he listen? There was something about that girl that just didn't fit and now he knew!

Focus! How great were her powers? She was only sixteen. Considerably younger than many of the priests he'd encounter. She was clearly also adept at the martial arts. To learn these skills would have taken up much time. There would not have been enough time to master any one skill. She could not be that good.

The Assassin narrowed his eyes. The girl had to be somewhere in the castle. And he was going to find her. She's not the only one with mystical powers.

---

There was a reason Cerridwen was loathed to use the Teleport spell. There was no telling where it could take her, especially since her spells weren't that powerful yet. It took no less than three attempts before she was able to teleport herself to an area in the castle where there actually were guards.

The two that were assigned to patrol the hallways in that particular area stood stock still as they witnessed none other than the King's daughter materialize in front of them in a burst of warm light. "Princess?" they chorused.

"Guards!" Cerridwen cried out as she rushed towards them. "Sound the alarm! There is an Assassin intent on abducting me!"

"Assassin?" The two guards looked at one another and then in silent agreement one of them rushed towards the bell tower to sound the alarm.

"Please follow me, Your Highness," said the guard that remained, "we should take you someplace safe."

Cerridwen nodded mutely and followed the guard. She swallowed nervously as she walked, her eyes darting here and there wondering whether the Assassin was just lurking in the shadows. She had read about the caste of Assassins. They had the ability to make themselves invisible. She wasn't sure whether this was from the use of magic or through some technique that made use of shadows. The only thing she knew for certain was that she wouldn't feel safe again until the Assassin was caught.

---

Locating Princess Cerridwen proved to not be difficult at all. One merely had to follow the guards running all over the place. This the Assassin did, darting behind pillar after pillar, sometimes running behind the heavy drapes that adorned every window in the castle.

The bells had already begun their tolling, waking and alerting everyone of the danger. The Assassin smiled inwardly. He was still confident that he'd be able to accomplish his mission. Now that he knew that the girl had the powers of a priest, he'd be able to deal with her.

After a few more seconds, the five guards he was following stopped running. The Assassin also stopped behind the closest pillar and peeked towards the corridor. There was the princess! She was already walking briskly, binding her long red hair in a makeshift braid as she did. The princess was now surrounded by eight guards, four of them armed with long swords and shields, the rest with arbalests.

The Assassin continued to stealthily follow them, watching closely, trying to assess the skills of the guards. He had to face tougher odds before and he succeeded where others failed primarily because he rarely took anything for granted. Well, he supposed he was slightly careless with Cerridwen earlier but upon reflection there was nothing he could have done to prepare him for what she really was.

Based on his extensive knowledge of the castle, he knew that the corridor they were traversing would spill into a great hallway. It was a perfect place to make his move.

---

Cerridwen hesitated at the threshold of the Great Hall. The Great Hall was a cavernous chamber used for balls and other special occasions. Something did not feel right about going through it. She swept her eyes across the alert faces of her armed escorts. She now had eighteen of them. She should be feeling safe. Would a single Assassin be able to prevail against eighteen seasoned warriors? That she couldn't provide a compelling answer to her own question only served to heighten her fear.

"Your Highness?" It was the Captain of the Guard.

The young Princess turned to face the man who addressed her. There was a look of concern on his face.

"We have to turn back, Captain," she said, already moving away from the threshold.

Cerridwen could see the scowl forming on the Captain's face. She didn't know what to do. On the one hand, it was important that he knew that to go through the Great Hall would be a mistake but on the other hand, it would only cause him to ask questions about her abilities she wasn't prepared to answer. The princess scanned the faces of the guards around her once more.

"Princess Cerridwen, you have to trust us," the Captain said, calmly. "Going through the Great Hall is the shortest route to the King's, your father's, Stronghold." The Stronghold was the most fortified area of the castle, a place where the royal family went in case of grave danger.

Her bright, green eyes bored into the Captain's, searching, wanting to trust. Just before the Captain began to fidget from the intense stare, she sighed and slowly closed her eyes. "Very well, Captain." I hope you know what you're doing, she didn't add.

She took two steps right up to the threshold and once more hesitated. She took one deep breath and stepped through. It was easy after that. Perhaps it was merely her imagination. Nevertheless, it hadn't stopped her from directing cautious glances at the shadows that filled the large room.

Her fear began to ease as they approached the center of the Great Hall. So far, so good. That was when pandemonium broke out!

Cerridwen sensed it first. She whirled around so suddenly and quickly, surprising the guards in her immediate proximity. She was just in time to see the two rear guards go down noisily, their shields and blades clattering uselessly on the white marble floor.

The Captain began barking orders, making sure that the guards stayed in formation effectively surrounding the princess. All they could see were the quick movement of shadows but even that was hard to track with the normal eye. First one, then another and then another. In quick succession a total of four guards went down, unconscious.

"Get down, Princess!" she heard the Captain yell. She immediately complied, going down on her knees, groaning inwardly as she made hard contact with the floor. She kept her head up though, wanting to see what would happen. She felt her face and skin flush with fear and adrenaline!

The archers were firing their arrows haphazardly and the swordsmen were swinging and wielding their blades and spears wildly at the shadows. One by one, they went down. They just couldn't see!

That was it! Cerridwen quickly stood up, brought her hands together and prayed for the Ruwach spell. It was the spell that would allow her, but only her to see. It was better than nothing. After she chanted the spell, a bright ball covered in cool blue flame began encircling her. It was a distraction that proved a mistake for the remaining six guards that were standing. They were surprised by the manifestation of the spell. In that one second, three guards went down. Only the Captain and two others remained standing.

But she could now see him! Still covered in shadows but now visible to her eyes. "Captain! He's right there in front of you!" She pointed a finger at the exact location of the Assassin.

The Captain, more seasoned in the ways of battle and more knowledgeable about the mystic ways of the world, reacted quickly. "Attack!" he beckoned the two other guards as they rushed forward.

Cerridwen's eyes widened as she saw the Assassin stand his ground, his fists at his side, the blades on his arms still hidden. The three defenders hacked and slashed but they hit nothing but air as the shadowed figure dodged and parried with lightning fast reflexes. In less than a second, the two guards flanking the Captain were unconscious before they even hit the floor. In two, the Captain finally also fell, his broadsword clanging against the floor and sliding against its smooth surface.

The princess watched, almost mesmerized, as the weapon traveled the distance towards her, rotating as it did, until its hilt bumped gently against her bare foot. She wasn't sure whether it was by design or mere coincidence that it happened. It didn't matter. She bent down and picked up the sword, grasping it expertly in her two hands, automatically going into combat position.

The sword was heavier than her own, which she hid inside her room. Only the Lady Stephanie and Lord Renthro were aware of its existence. It was a gift from the latter, especially forged for her.

She glanced at the Assassin. His dark eyes were locked onto her own. She could hear the wild pounding of her heart in her ears. There was no way she was going to be able to fend the man off. Should she run? She wouldn't able to outrun him. Should she teleport? He'd find her again and maybe cause more harm to the guards of the castle, many of whom she considered friends. She chanced a glance at the prone bodies of the guards. They didn't have any wounds that were visible. And as far as she could tell, they were all still breathing.

Why hadn't the Assassin kill any of them?

She tore her eyes away from her fallen defenders and focused on the Assassin. She felt the stirrings of anger in her. Anger was something she couldn't remember feeling. Especially anger towards another person. She immediately decided that she didn't care for this emotion. But one thing it did do: it empowered her. She narrowed her eyes at the dark figure in front of her. It had to end here and now.

---

She was magnificent! She stood before him, handling a sword that was too big for her like it was as natural as holding a hairbrush. And she was only sixteen! There was definitely more to this girl than met the eye.

That she could see him even despite his supposedly hidden state was a bit disconcerting. She was indeed a priestess. Had he not known about their ability to see with ethereal eyes, he would have been intimidated by the ball of blue flame revolving around her, just above her head.

He could detect no fear in her anymore. Instead...instead her eyes held anger and determination in them. So, she was ready to fight. It was time to give her a lesson in what true combat really meant.

The Assassin lunged forward. He saw the girl tense and immediately countered by doing a horizontal slash aimed at his chest. He bent backwards, causing the blade to pass harmlessly over him. The girl overdid the swing and now had trouble bringing the sword back. He straightened himself and moved forward once more, reaching out and grabbing her right wrist, pulling her towards him. The girl, obviously realizing that there was no way for her to bring the sword back to bear on the attacker, allowed herself to be pulled. Using just her left hand, she whirled counter-clockwise, her back now facing him, swinging the weapon again horizontally, this time aiming for his head.

The girl was fast! Not as fast as him but fast enough so that he still had to be careful. It was going to be too late to dodge the blade. He raised his left hand on front of his face. Using the middle finger, he depressed the button on his left palm, instantaneously extending his katar. With the ringing of metal against metal, his katar blocked the girl's blade. The princess must have been surprised at the contact her blade made with his weapon for she hesitated. It was going to be her undoing.

He grabbed her left wrist. He now had control over both her arms. He twisted both wrists slightly causing the girl to yelp in pain. She reflexively released her hold on the broadsword and for the second time that evening, it fell noisily to the floor. Despite her vigorous struggles and screams, he was quickly able to gather her wrists in his left hand, taking firm hold of them, as he pinched a nerve on the girl's neck with his right. The princess stiffened briefly and then slumped. She was unconscious.

The Assassin watched her face and chest closely as he quickly but gently laid her down on the floor, trying to see whether she was really unconscious or merely pretending. He could already hear the sound of soldiers coming his way. In some peculiar way, it reminded of the sound of an onrushing mob of Hi Orcs paving the way for the Orc Hero. He shuddered at the thought. He reached down and checked the princess' pulse. Steady. So was her breathing.

He lifted the girl and then hefted her over his right shoulder. The dark figure cast a glance one last time towards where the soldiers were going to come from. It was definitely time to leave.

Under the cover of darkness, the Assassin was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Ragnarok Online is the intellectual property of Gravity and Myung-Jing-Lee. The aforementioned content is used here without permission, but with no intent of using it to promote or sell anything, including this document.

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**THE HEART OF CERRIDWEN**

By Kathryn Michelle Ancheta

**_Chapter 2_**

Sir Feral and his company of elite knights and hunters emerged from lush southern forest of Prontera only to be greeted by the acrid scent of desert air. Feral wriggled his nose as the hot breeze wafted past him. It never ceased to amaze him how drastically the terrain can change as one traveled through the land of Rune-Midgard. They had now entered the realm of Morroc.

Morroc, although still within the rule of King Erondral, was the haven for thieves and assassins. Their caste, as it were, was even based in the central city of this region. It was the most lawless of lands. Everyone accompanying him was aware of this and each became more alert, scanning their area of responsibility more diligently lest they fall into an ambush.

The First Knight of Prontera alighted from the back of his peco peco. The peco peco was a large flightless bird with orange plumage and a large yellow beak. It was one of the very few beasts that could be domesticated. Feral suspected that there were others too that could be tamed but it would entail great risk. His "nearly" domesticated gryphon was living proof that.

It was for this gryphon that he now searched the horizon. He allowed his master tracker, a huntress by the name of Madison, to ride it--something he very rarely allowed--in order to track down more quickly this abductor. Feral's eyes narrowed in barely controlled anger. If this assassin hurt a single beautiful hair on his beloved Cerridwen, so help him, Rune-Midgard would not be big enough for him to hide in. That lowlife was going to rue the day he was born!

---

There were no less than seven desert wolves before him, all snarling and drooling. Obviously hungry. It was odd. The wolves weren't supposed to be here. They usually roamed and hunted in the southern part of Morroc desert. And they usually didn't band together in large numbers such as these. What the hell are they doing this far north?

He didn't have the energy for this. He had been running nonstop for more than a day, going in zigzags and circles deliberately in order to mislead the army that was sure to hunt him down. All this while bearing the uncooperative princess on his shoulder. He didn't think he had any strength left to face ferocious creatures that weren't supposed to be here. It wasn't in the plan.

There was no one to help him either. He wasn't scheduled to meet up with his party of assassins until after another day's travel. It was just him and the princess. _This isn't good_.

Princess Cerridwen was already squirming in fear on his shoulder, obviously aware that they were in danger. Her hands and legs were tied and her mouth gagged in a thick cloth but it didn't stop her from thrashing about. These sudden movements made the wolves snarl some more, lowering their bellies to the ground as they crept closer to them. They were preparing to attack.

"Princess! Stop that!" the Assassin ordered. "You are going to bring the wolves upon us before I am ready to face them!" The Assassin slapped the girl's thigh sharply with his left hand. Big mistake. It only aggravated her even more, causing her to make louder muffled noises through her gag and thrash about more vigorously.

The wolves attacked as one. The Assassin leaped back just in time, landing several feet away. The beasts, surprised to find nothing where once there were two humans, became even angrier as they pounced after their quarry. They all stopped a few feet away again as they collectively evaluated their prey, moving to surround him to ensure that he wouldn't escape again.

This time the Assassin knew that the wolves would not be so easily dodged. He very slowly set the thrashing teenager down on the ground and removed her gag.

The princess' green eyes were sending off sparks of anger and indignation as they narrowed and glared at him. "You will pay dearly for thi-" The Assassin cupped her mouth.

"Listen to me, Princess," he said firmly, "I'm letting you go."

---

Cerridwen struggled some more and then abruptly stopped. Did he just say that he was letting her go?

She felt his hand move from her mouth. She glanced up and had her very first look at her captor. His face was mostly concealed save for his eyes. This she focused on. They were almost like the color of...the sands of the desert, very light brown. There was a hint of sadness there, of finality, even regret. But no trace of wickedness or evil. It surprised her deeply.

"There is no reason for both of us to die," he continued.

She felt his hands go over her side to loosen her bonds. Die? It was only then the snarling sounds of the wolves intruded in her consciousness. Her eyes widened as she turned to look and saw the wolves surrounding them, their bloodshot eyes watching them with raw hunger. They were, each one of them, huge with razor-sharp teeth! She swallowed the lump of fear in her throat and averted her eyes, turning them to those in front of her.

"Don't worry. I'll handle them," the Assassin said, rising and taking her hand in his as he assisted her up. His eyes never left hers and they seemed to be smiling.

As soon as she was able to stand on her wobbly legs he immediately maneuvered her behind him so she was shielded from the wolves that would attack any second now. His hand remained holding hers. Although gloved, it was the kind that left his fingers exposed. The touch of his rough skin on her soft and delicate fingers was sending strange tingles down her spine.

"Just head north. I'm sure you'll encounter your people soon." He said without glancing at her, preferring instead to carefully watch the movements of the vicious beasts. He finally released her hand. "Now, run!" This he said firmly.

His command galvanized her into action. Her mind protested._ But what's going to happen to you?_ Her body had other ideas as she turned and started running after only a moment's hesitation.

As if on cue, she heard the wolves attack and the resounding battlecry of the Assassin as he met them head on! _Don't look back_. She felt tears on her eyes. _Don't look back. Just keep running..._

---

The Dark Lord was an imposing being. He was extremely tall, measuring more than seven feet. His head was that of a skull and he had skull-like ornaments on his shoulders. Two snakes dangled from his large neck at all times. He was the embodiment of evil and he ruled the underworld that was Glast Heim.

Glast Heim was once a grand and beautiful monastery, renowned for its wonderfully manicured gardens, magnificent and rare artifacts and its voluminous collection of knowledge that covered the trivial to the profound. The Glast Heim of today was a desolate place. Where once learned men and women of the cloth roamed around the halls and grounds only unholy creatures abound.

The Dark Lord sat on his throne located at the deepest bowels of the monastery. His gaze was unseeing, fixed on a spot in space. This was how the Sorceress Tatiana found him.

"You summoned me, Dark Lord?" she asked, lowering her eyes and going down on one well-shaped knee, paying the requisite obeisance to the evil presence before her.

"I am concerned about that assassin we sent to capture Erondral's daughter," the Dark Lord said, his voice like rumbling lava pouring out of a fissure.

"Branagan?" the Sorceress slowly lifted her eyes towards him. "He is the best, my Lord."

"Yet he isn't completely on our side."

"He will do my bidding, my Lord."

"Does he even care about his sister?"

"My Lord, he would die for his sister," Tatiana injected as much confidence in her reply as she could muster.

"I wish to meet her."

"As you wish, my Lord," she lowered her head once more and then gracefully rose, brushing back her long black cape aside. She took one brief glance at the Dark Lord and then turned, pivoting on one foot, and briskly walked out the door to fetch the girl.

The Dark Lord's head moved ever so slightly to gaze at the retreating figure. It was all about power. He had it but wanted more, hence the abduction of his enemy's daughter. But Tatiana, she didn't have the power and she wanted it too. How would she go about taking it?

The Dark Lord was a patient being. True intentions would unravel soon enough. But first, he needed to create another plan. His original scheme may not work after all. He wasn't convinced that the assassin Branagan would be able to deliver the girl. He needed to prepare.

---

Cerridwen knelt beside him and gazed into his sleeping, unmasked, face. It was amazing what he did. He willingly sacrificed himself for her. It greatly confused her. Why would he go through great lengths to kidnap her and then allow himself to be mortally injured for her sake? It didn't seem like normal behavior. To try and piece the mystery that was her captor, she had carefully examined his garments and weapons she took from him. None of the artifacts gave her any clue that would give her an idea as to his intentions. She did, however, discover the man's name. Branagan, engraved, as it was, on both his katars. She decided it was a nice, strong name.

She placed a cool hand on his forehead. Although she had fully healed his wounds, he was still feverish. She allowed her hand to slide down his face so her fingers were carressing his cheek. He was rather handsome in an rouguish sort of way.

She quickly withdrew her hand when the man groaned. "Eranelle," it was a pained whisper. Cerridwen's eyes flashed angrily as her heart constricted. She blinked her eyes in irritation. She realized that she had felt the pang of jealousy. Stupid girl. Of course he would have a girl of his own. She frowned at Branagan. But she shook her head after a moment.

"Thank you, Branagan," she said softly. "There seems to be more to you than meets the eye."

---

Feral watched closely as his master tracker, the Huntress Madison, struggled to land the gryphon a few feet away. The large bird was getting restless. It was getting harder to control as each day passed.

Two squires quickly rushed forward and threw looped coils around its neck, one on each side. They then tied the other end of the rope to nearby trees. They had to use all their strength for the bird was shrieking loudly and stubbornly refusing to be restrained. The Huntress Madison had to hold on tightly to keep from being thrown off and be trampled on or worse land near the gryphon's razor sharp beak and be eaten alive!

When she was sure that the bird was effectively restrained, she hopped down. Feral watched her as she approached, noting with amusement the scowl on her sun-soaked pretty face.

"With all due respect, Feral," Madison began as soon as she came within hearing distance, "if I knew how much trouble I'd be in riding that banged up bird of yours I wouldn't have agreed to taking it in the first place!" She was shaking her head in disdain.

"So, have you found them this time?" Feral asked firmly ignoring the other's comments.

The huntress slightly cocked her head and raised an eyebrow briefly. It was her way of letting him know that she didn't appreciate the manner with which she was being put in her place.

"Yes, _Sir_," she replied, sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "The Assassin is a tricky bastard. He did give me the slip once--"

"Twice."

"Okay, twice but I got him this time."

"Are you certain?"

"Well, you know what? I'd be more certain if I was able to actually get down on the ground and examine the tracks. As it was--"

"So you didn't go down and examine the tracks yourself?" asked Feral, incredulously.

"How could I with that damned bird of yours!" Madison cried indignantly, while jerking a thumb behind her indicating the gryphon, which was still wildly shrieking and struggling against its bonds. "But don't worry," she said quickly cutting off whatever scathing reply she would have gotten from the First Knight, "Gunther was able to convince me that the tracks he saw were the real thing. Speaking of which, where is that old rascal?" She raised her eyes to the sky and as if on cue, she spotted her falcon making a dive towards her. "Ah! There he is!"

Feral's eyes narrowed in consternation. There was no way he could trust information coming from a non-sentient creature. He could never understand how Madison was able to communicate so effectively with her falcon. All the hunters he had in his company also had the same ability. "You know, maybe I should start asking Gunther questions from now on," he said, icily, walking past his master tracker who already had the falcon perched on her right arm.

"I'd sure like to see you try," she grumbled under her breath.

Feral heard the insolent retort but chose to ignore it, focusing instead on his own winged creature. He took a deep, cleansing breath. "So, where are they?"

"More than a hundred miles south of here. They've got more than a day's travel headstart."

Feral nodded mutely. So, they're heading deep into Morroc desert. The First Knight abruptly turned around. "We're moving out!" he commanded loudly causing the rest of the company of knights and hunters to rise, brushing their armor of sand and dust and heading for their mounts. "Prepare the gryphon. I'm gonna ride it, this time." He smirked at Madison as he said this.

"Good luck," she grumbled again.

---

Branagan opened his eyes and saw the naked night sky above him. Without any lights from the city, the stars were brighter and--

He suddenly sat upright and immediately noted several things: he was no longer wearing his mask, his katars were gone from his arms and his upper body armor was stripped as well. He was bare-chested! He clenched his fists and swept the immediate vicinity with his eyes, looking for the bandit who-

Wait a minute! The last thing he remembered was that he was fighting the wolves and he managed to kill all of them but not before they…killed him? He had sustained mortal wounds…wounds from which he would never have survived. Of that he was certain.

"Oh, you're awake."

The Assassin jolted and on reflex rolled away from the source of the sound, deftly landing on his feet and facing his opponent, ready in combat position.

"Hey, it's just me."

Branagan's eyes widened in surprise. "You! I-I mean, well, you!"

The princess laughed. He stood there mesmerized by her mirth and the sound of her happy voice. Her laughter was like the peals of tiny bells and her green eyes sparkled. After a moment's reflection, he dropped his fists, indignant at having been caught in an embarrassing situation. What was he thinking anyway?

He crossed his arms in front of him, feeling a bit awkward that he was half-naked. "So, uhm, I thought I told you to run?"

"Oh, I did," she replied, her smile disappearing as she bent to place more wood into the small bonfire that separated them. He failed to notice both details earlier and he felt foolish. As an assassin he was supposed to be trained in noticing little things such as a woman carrying firewood and a fire burning right in front of him.

The princess continued to drop wood into the fire, stoking them as she did, for the time being ignoring his presence. He cleared his throat. "So, you ran."

"Yes, I did," she answered, glancing up at him very briefly before focusing back on her task. He couldn't help but notice that the thin silk robe she was wearing was not doing a very good job at concealing her womanly charms. He could see one shapely thigh exposed through of the slit in her garment as she knelt by the fire she was tending. It was distracting him.

"So, you ran and now you're here and…well, what happened?"

For several moments, she ignored him, pretending to be preoccupied by her task. After a while, she stood up and looked him squarely in the eye.

"You were dying. The wolves were cutting you up very badly," she said, shrugging. "I couldn't just pretend I didn't see it. I had to do something. So I healed you."

"You healed me."

"Yes, okay? That's my secret. I'm a priestess. _Okay_?" She turned around, facing away from him, crossing her arms in front of her. "My father isn't going to be very pleased with me."

"Well, _Princess_, I already figured out on my own that you were a priestess. I'm not dumb, you know."

She glanced back at him, raising a well-sculpted eyebrow. "So, if you knew that, why are you so surprised that I healed you?"

"Well, because. You healed me. Me, the guy who kidnapped you. The guy who brought you to this desolate place!"

"Well, you know what?" she asked, whirling around and stomping towards him. The Princess poked him on the shoulder when she was within distance. "Why did you do it?" Where once her eyes were sparkling with delight, now they were sparking with righteous anger. Branagan found himself as mesmerized as before.

"Do what?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Kidnap me!"

The assassin stared at her and then looked away. He suddenly remembered the gravity of the situation. For him and her. It was also a dilemma. Would he continue and carry out his mission? Or should he let her go? If he let her go, what would happen to his sister? If he continued his mission, what would happen to her? All of sudden he cared about her welfare. But why? Well, for one thing, she saved your miserable, worthless life, a voice inside him said.

"You should have just run away," he said resignedly, raising his head and closing his eyes.

"I could still run away, you know," the Princess said, once again crossing her arms in front of her. Defiant.

"Sure you can," he said skeptically.

"I can Teleport!"

"And you'll still end up somewhere in the desert." He raised his index finger. "First, I'd still be able to track you down," he raised his thumb, "and second, if it's not me who gets you, it'll be the wolves!"

"I'll take my chances with the wolves!"

"You wouldn't survive one-"

"Well, well, well," an amused disembodied voice said.

Both Branagan and the princess whirled to see who it was. Branagan's eyes narrowed at the sight. It was Arnak, the leader of a rival assassin guild. He was a powerful fighter, stocky and not so tall. He was extremely fast and agile despite appearances. His head was devoid of hair but his face was more than half covered with a beard that hadn't seen a bath in months. The other half of his face was covered with hideous scars.

"What have we here?" Arnak asked, his voice dripping with contempt. At first it was only him that was visible but as he neared the light of the fire, the other members of the guild appeared as well. By Branagan's count, they numbered twelve.

The Princess backed away in terror, hugging herself tightly, obviously feeling the hungry looks of the filthy new arrivals that were no different, if not worse than that of the wolves.

"What are you doing here, Arnak," Branagan demanded, keeping his legs apart, his hands ready at his side.

Arnak eyed him, noting the change in his stance. Branagan was aware that the other knew that he would be ready if it came down to a fight.

"Oh, we were just hunting, you know," the rival assassin said, gesturing lazily. "Me and the boys, we were just hungry for some fresh meat." His croaking laughter was soon joined by guffaws of his companions.

He swept his eyes across the other assassins. They were nomads. Outcasts. They believed in nothing and trusted in no one. It was clear from the way they ogled the princess that their hunt was over.

In Branagan's mind, he defended the princess against the wolves. He would do no less now. Let's see…twelve against him…and a priestess. Not bad. He also had the element of surprise. He'd bet his katars, they saw the princess as just one hapless little girl. He felt his mouth curve slightly upwards in a small smile.

He looked sideways at the Princess who was also staring at him, noting his smile with horrified eyes that seemed to ask, what the hell are you smiling about?

You'll know soon enough, Princess, he said to himself. He gritted his teeth and launched himself at Arnak.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Ragnarok Online is the intellectual property of Gravity and Myung-Jing-Lee. The aforementioned content is used here without permission, but with no intent of using it to promote or sell anything, including this document.

* * *

**THE HEART OF CERRIDWEN**

By Kathryn Michelle Ancheta

**_Chapter 3_**

"It seems that the Dark Lord fancies you," the sultry voice of the evil sorceress, Tatiana, bounced and echoed against the bare walls of the dank corridor that led to the dungeon.

For the most part, the girl kept her head high and her eyes forward but she caught the sly and malicious glance the taller woman gave her through her peripheral vision. She averted her eyes quickly, tears threatening to spill and cloud her vision. In her anger and frustration, she tripped on the uneven floor. The two burly guards that had vise like grips on her arms had to lift and drag her forward until she was able to regain her footing.

"There is no hope for you, Eranelle," Tatiana continued, not noticing the little mishap. "Even if your brother succeeds in delivering the princess, the Dark Lord isn't going to release you."

The ensuing malevolent laughter hurt the girl's ears. She could not help the tears that fell. But they were tears of anger. She had to escape. She could not let her brother kidnap the princess.

She had skills for fighting. She thought about her chances carefully. Her wrists were chained, there were two towering guards flanking her, each one weighing more than triple her weight, and a sadistic sorceress who most likely possessed powers she had no hope of countering. It all seemed hopeless.

Except that they needed her alive.

She glanced surreptitiously at the guard on her left, assessing his height. And then, with the speed borne out of desperation, she elbowed the guard's midsection with all the might her diminunitive frame could muster, causing him to double over in pain.

The guard on the right reacted quickly, pulling on Eranelle's arm, gripping it tightly. She gritted her teeth as she ignored the pain. The guard was already swinging his arm, his clenched fist rushing forward to make contact with her face.

She swiftly ducked under it, the fist missing her by only a hair's breadth. The guard had not counted on not hitting his target as his arm still moved forward, taking part of his heavy upper torso with it. The guard had to let go of the girl or he would completely lose his balance.

"What in--" Tatiana was actually already several steps ahead by the time she became aware of the commotion. "Why, you insolent girl!" She raised her bejeweled arc wand and began chanting a spell. Her hair and cape began billowing as if a strong breeze was blowing. Her entire being was swathed in a pillar of light that seemed to emanate from above.

The entire awesome image registered in Eranelle's mind. She was almost mesmerized by it. She doubted that she was going to survive the spell Tatiana was conjuring up, forgetting her notion that the Dark Lord needed her alive. She had to do something!

She focused back at the guard whose punch she had just dodged. Because of the momentum, the guard had gone past her and she was now between him and whatever destructive force the sorceress was going to unleash on her. She grabbed hold onto the back of the guard's tunic and swung him around with all her strength, using him as a shield.

At just the right moment, a blue ball of electrical energy streaked out from Tatiana but it hit the guard! Eranelle was still holding onto him though and the jolt of the attack threw her several feet away, causing her to land painfully on the cold cobbled floor of the dungeon corridors. It dazed her momentarily.

The girl immediately stood up on wobbly legs, her eyes glued on the guard who was wriggling like a fabre (a green worm-like creature) on a hook! The electrical energy that the sorceress cast had engulfed the man and was doing its grotesque damage.

Eranelle didn't waste another second. She ran as fast as she could. Behind her, she could hear Tatiana bellowing like the crazed woman she was, calling for the guards, calling her all sorts of names, using expletives that would make the sailors of Comodo blush! But it galvanized her and so she ran as fast as she could, not caring where she went as long as it was as far away from this place as possible.

---

Cerridwen watched with wide-eyed terror and amazement as the bare-chested and as yet unarmed Branagan, who was in front of her, dispatched warrior after grizzled warrior that came after her.

He sent the assassin in front of him flying with a frontal kick. He then immediately had to dodge two katar swipes from two other assassins that quickly appeared at both his sides to replace the two that he had just dispatched a second ago.

Even as he managed to duck and weave through and between the deadly metal blades and claws, more and more of the vagabonds came to join the fray. He was now surrounded by six black-clad warriors like winged scavengers fighting to get a morsel from their prey.

Cerridwen continually sent healing energy towards Branagan. Her energy reserves were nearing depletion. For a split second she wondered why she even bothered. He was responsible for putting them in this situation in the first place. The red-haired teenage princess of Rune-Midgard decided this wasn't the right time for an internal debate.

She had to do something drastic. Her champion, if in fact he was that, was not doing significant damage to the attackers so that they would stay down long enough for them to escape. After sending one more heal spell to cure the new wounds she saw, she immediately chanted another one. It was the Kyrie Eleison spell; this she cast on Branagan, which immediately caused him to glow, giving him the appearance of being ethereal.

All of sudden, every time a blade would strike Branagan it would hit a barrier, making a distinct clang. In that instant, they all stopped fighting. The other assassins stepped back in surprise, only then realizing that something had changed, and only then taking in the subtle glow exuded by their target.

Branagan knew, of course. He turned to look at Cerridwen. She flashed her green eyes at him in annoyance in an attempt to tell him to do something.

"By the pyramids of Morroc!" Arnak exclaimed, being the first to recover from his surprise. He turned to stare at the princess. "She's a priestess! Get her!"

Branagan had precisely less than a second to act. He grabbed the arm of the nearest assassin, ripped off the katar from his arm as he threw him bodily towards his guildmates. The thrown assassin toppled the others, temporarily rendering them incapacitated.

Arnak acted quickly, realizing it was going to be up to him to capture the girl. He rushed forward, sharp, metal claws extending out from each fist. Branagan also rushed to intercept. It was going to be a race.

Cerridwen saw the onrushing assailant. In her alarm, she failed to realize that Branagan was closer to her. Every fiber in her body was poised to flee but that part of her that no longer wanted to cower in fear won out. She did run--but towards Arnak!

"Cerridwen!" she heard Branagan cry out her name but she ignored it. She was a warrior, trained by one of best knights in her father's service. She saw how this Arnak moved. He wasn't as fast as Branagan and she was able handle herself well enough.

Arnak's surprise at this unexpected development registered only briefly on his face. He recovered quickly, stepping up his attack. He raised his arms in front him, his metal claws aimed right at the girl, intending to impale her with them.

Cerridwen narrowed her eyes, focusing on the implements of death directed at her. It was now or never.

---

Not good. _Not good!_ Branagan fumed as he changed direction as quickly as humanly possible, keeping his eye on the princess. He wasn't going to make it!

"Cerridwen!" he cried out again in frustration. It was also a prayer. He swore he was going to tear Arnak's limbs from his body one by one if it was the last thing he did. And, if by some miracle Cerridwen survived, he was going to do the same to her!

The two were about to collide. He fought the impulse to look away.

Once again, the girl did something amazing! At the last moment, she leaped up, stepped on one of the Arnak's claws just as one would when stepping on a stair step, and with her other foot planted a good kick on the assassin's face.

The force of the kick was considerable because of the speed at which both combatants ran towards each other. Arnak's head, together with his chest, began falling backwards, while his legs continued on its forward direction. Just before the assassin's head touched the course desert sand, Cerridwen propelled herself into the air once again to land just a few feet away.

She turned, pivoting gracefully on a bare foot, and looked down at her attacker. Arnak was unconscious. A large, rapidly reddening, print of her foot could be clearly seen on his face.

Branagan came to a halt just a foot away from the fallen body of his rival. He didn't have to make any further examinations. The man was indeed unconscious. He looked up at the princess. She was beaming at him, feeling obviously proud at what she'd done.

"What in the deserts of Morroc was that stunt all about?" he demanded, narrowing his eyes at her. He was so angry he had to control himself from throttling the girl.

"He was attacking me and you were--"

"Only four steps away from you!"

"Well, I didn't know--"

"Well, see? That's the problem there. _You didn't know! _You don't know anything!"

Cerridwen's lips started to quiver and her eyes were brimming with tears. "I don't even know why I bothered…" she said this in a very soft voice.

The evidence of emotion jolted Branagan. It instantly hit him that he was being too hard. After all, the girl did magnificently against a trained and ruthless assassin. He opened his mouth, hesitated and then opened it again, intending to apologize but the princess pressed her hands together and chanted a spell.

"No, no! Don't--" was all he could say before the girl disappeared in a thin veil of light. She had teleported. _What have I done?_

He had to go find her. He turned around to get back to the camp site, gather his things and weapons. Only then did he realize that he'd made a terrible mistake. Before him were the assassins of Arnak. He had forgotten about them. He shook his head imperceptibly. He had been careless again.

He would have to fight them all over again. He no longer had a priestess with him but he was at least now armed with one katar already attached on his right arm.

His last thought before he engaged the enemies was a prayer for Princess Cerridwen's safety.

---

It didn't take a genius to know that she was in big trouble. She was still somewhere in the deserts of Morroc, that much she knew. She had already teleported more times than she could keep track of. And she was still nowhere near any discernable civilization of any kind. At this point, she didn't know how far away she was from Branagan, that…that…assassin! Just the thought of him made her blood boil!

If she only knew which direction led back to her home. It was fortunate that the moon was out, providing some light in an otherwise completely dark and featureless landscape.

Away from the fire, she also realized that it was actually quite cold. Especially since the only protection she had was the thin silk robe she had on, the same one she was wearing when she was abducted. She raised her hands to rub some heat into her bare arms, which had become pimply with goose bumps.

This was all Branagan's fault! If it wasn't for him, she wouldn't be in this desolate place. She wouldn't be cold or hungry. She wouldn't have been in any danger…or adventure…or would never have realized that she was truly a fighter…

Cerridwen shook her head vigorously as her thoughts began to stray. It occurred to her that she had walked quite a distance while contemplating her predicament. Up ahead, she was elated to see light in the distance that could only be coming from a fire. She quickened her pace, eager to get to the source of heat and possibly sustenance. She was starving. It didn't occur to her that coming up to a strange camp was dangerous for someone like her, who was also ill-clad.

The camp site was partially shielded by a low-rise dune. She almost ran to reach it. As soon as she crested it, however, her spirits sank. _Oh, please, not again!_

The gloved hands that suddenly grasped her bare arms from behind no longer came as a big surprise. The six assassins that were standing loosely and relaxed behind the campfire all bore the same smiling expression. They all knew who she was and were expecting her.

Cerridwen wanted to cry. About the only consolation she had was that this bunch didn't seem as filthy-looking as the group led by Arnak. But looks, she thought grimly, could be deceiving.

---

Feral arrived just as the resident priestess, Faemie, came out of the prisoner's tent. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two heavily armed swordsmen he posted just outside the entrance stiffen in attention at his approach.

"How is he?" he asked, his voice dripping with contempt.

Faemie, who was already a veteran on many of Feral's excursions, pretended not to notice the loathing and hatred in her leader's voice.

"The prisoner is completely healed," the priestess replied, cooly, again ignoring the expression on the other's face that seemed to say, "why even bother."

"Very well," Feral said, moving past the priestess, intending to enter the tent.

"Sir..." the First Knight turned to look at the woman. "He isn't what he seems."

Feral's first impulse was to scoff at this pronouncement but then stopped himself. He looked at Faemie as if he were only seeing her for the first time. She was waif-like, someone no one would suspect was fearless in the face of danger. He had always trusted her judgement. He nodded once at her. It was enough to let her know he was going to keep an open mind.

He was also going to keep his sword loose too, he thought as he looked away and entered the tent.

---

Branagan looked up to see an imposing figure enter the tent. He already knew who it was. Feral, the First Knight of Prontera, made the tent look a lot smaller than it did before he came in. The assassin attempted to adopt a more defiant pose but it proved to be difficult given that he was kneeling on the desert floor with his wrists chained above his head. He looked up and sized the knight standing imperiously in front of him.

Feral was a few inches taller than him and considerably bulkier too. The lower half of his face was covered in a neatly trimmed, albeit dusty, mustache and beard. He had dark brown hair and eyes that looked both cruel and kind at the same time. All in all, the man commanded respect and was someone to be feared. Although Branagan did not fear him.

"What is your name, assassin?"

Branagan considered lying but after a moment's reflection decided that he would not gain or lose anything by telling the truth. "Branagan."

"You kidnapped Princess Cerridwen." It was not a question but it was obvious that an answer was required.

Branagan hesitated for a brief moment, noting that the knight's grip on his sword's hilt grew tighter. He raised his eyes, looking straight into those of his inquisitor's. "Yes."

Feral's eyes narrowed and his jaws clenched. "Then, assassin, you will please tell me why I should keep you alive."

"Because I can help you get her back."

The knight snorted derisively, shaking his head. "You think too highly of yourself, assassin--"

"I am not an assassin!" Feral raised his eyebrows, looking down condescendingly at the chained prisoner. Branagan took a deep breath. He fought to quell the pride in him that incessantly reminded him that he owed no one an explanation. Princess Cerridwen was in real danger. He should have thought out his actions more clearly, before setting out to kidnap her in the first place. Now that he had gotten to know her...

"I may have been trained in the ways of the assassin," he continued, his eyes boring into the other unflinchingly, "but my guild exists only to provide protection for a fee."

"So, earning your living by providing protection didn't seem profitable enough you had to add kidnapping to your list of services, eh?"

Branagan endured the snide remark calmly on the outside but he was seething on the inside. His fists alternately clenched and relaxed as he struggled to control his temper.

"Well?" Feral asked, goading the other. "Nothing to say for yourself?"

"Listen, I had no choice!" Branagan knew that he had overstepped but he no longer cared. "My sister was taken hostage and would not be returned to me unless I delivered Cerr--the princess."

If the knight noticed the slip he didn't show it. "And who has taken your dear sister?" he drawled, taking on a disinterested pose, becoming suddenly preoccupied with the tips of his glove.

"The sorceress Tatiana."

Branagan saw Feral stop fiddling with the fingers on his right hand. Tatiana was once renowned not only for her powers but also for her beauty. When she still fought on the side of good, she was much sought after but then madness took over. In a fit of rage and in front of dozens of witnesses, she murdered six people and then managed to elude the authorities, disappearing into the many little-known passageways that dotted the central city of Prontera.

Feral looked up, his eyes now boring once again into his prisoner's. "You know where Tatiana is."

"We have agreed to meet in the great coal mines of Mt. Mjolnir."

"When?"

"At noon, two days hence."

The knight fell silent. He looked away, a thoughtful look crossing his eyes.

"What about the princess," Branagan asked, frowning at the way the other seemed to have forgotten about Cerridwen.

"What? Oh!" Feral waved a gloved hand in dismissal. "It's only a matter of time before we are able to locate her. My master tracker is on her trail right now."

Just then the outside light that was illuminating the inside of the tent was blocked as a figure stood at the entrance. Both men turned to look.

"Ah!" the knight exclaimed. "Speak of the devil. Come on in, Madison and meet our _guest_. We were just talking about you."

The woman named Madison sauntered in. She looked very well built. She was tanned, which meant that she spent a great deal of time outdoors. The sturdy bow strung over her shoulder immediately identified her as a hunter. It appeared to Branagan that the woman would rather be anywhere but where she was.

The huntress spared the assassin a glance before looking the knight in the eye. _Uh oh_, Branagan thought, _she has bad news_. Madison spoke in low tones but the resulting roar from Feral confirmed it. She took a step back, terrified at the other's outburst.

"What's happened to Cerridwen?" he couldn't help himself as he strained against his bonds. But it was a mistake and he knew if the moment the princess' name left his lips.

"_Cerridwen?_" Feral growled, his eyes narrowing dangerously at him, the huntress forgotten. "How dare you use familiar terms with the princess?"

"Listen to me, Feral!" The knight's eyes widened in rage. "If the princess has been captured, you'll need my help."

"I have yet to hear a good reason why I should even trust you!"

"Because I'm your only hope in retrieving her! I alone know the way to the secret chamber within the coal mines where they will surely take her. Listen to me, man! Don't let your pr--"

"Enough!" the knight bellowed, unsheathing his broadsword, raising it high above the assassin's head.

Before Branagan could react, the sword came swooshing down. In that instant he realized that he had indeed miscalculated things. He closed his eyes, accepting his fate. He certainly wasn't going to give this pompous knight the satisfaction of seeing him cower in fear.

He heard the sword make contact with something metallic. He immediately became aware of two things before he even opened his eyes: first, he was still alive, and second, the bonds that held his wrists above his head had suddenly slackened causing his arms to fall down of their own accord to his sides. When he finally did open his eyes, he found the razor sharp tip of Feral's blade a scant inch from his chin.

"Put just one toe out of line, assassin," he snarled, "and I will personally make sure you suffer a fate worse than death."

---

Eranelle lay huddled atop an abandoned wooden guard outpost that rose several feet from the ground. Cold, hungry, tired and weaponless, the younger sister of Branagan thought that it was a godsend after spending a good portion of the day running. Up here she was also at the very least safe from the fierce creatures that roamed the jungles of Mjolnir like the poisoned web-slinging argos and the deceptively beautiful but carnivorous flora.

It was only when she encountered these monsters earlier that she realized where she was. If her bearings were correct (and she fervently hoped she was) then the town of Geffen shouldn't be too far away. She was certain there would be goodly citizens who would be willing to help. She was the only one who knew of the existence of the evil Dark Lord and his plans of dominating all of Rune-Midgard. The people had to be warned.

Her final thoughts just before she drifted into a troubled sleep were of her brother. _Please be safe..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Ragnarok Online is the intellectual property of Gravity and Myung-Jing-Lee. The aforementioned content is used here without permission, but with no intent of using it to promote or sell anything, including this document.

* * *

**THE HEART OF CERRIDWEN**

By Kathryn Michelle Ancheta

**_Chapter 4_**

Cerridwen could hear them bickering outside her tent. She sat up straighter, straining to hear more clearly. She wished she could edge closer to the entrance of her tent but the chain around her ankle restricted her.

Night had fallen and they were all tired from having traveled all day. She didn't know where she was or where they were going to take her. She wasn't sure any of these assassins knew either, except for the one called Sephram, who seemed to be the officer in charge while Branagan was away. Branagan, she deduced, was apparently the leader of this band of assassins.

Like her kidnapper, Sephram was lean and muscular at the same time. Obviously built for speed and agility. To her relief, he seemed like a decent man, as were the rest of the group. Not at all like Arnak and his scoundrels. Sephram had treated her relatively well. She was fed and even clothed.

The clothing they provided though was rather a bit risque for her taste. She wore a beige sleeveless body suit that ended at mid thigh, exposing her long legs. The suit was made of an elastic material that really clung to her curves. Black boots that were almost as high as her knee completed the ensemble. Overall it was comfortable but she blushed furiously when she first wore it. She had no choice though. The silk robe she wore previously had been even more of a disgrace: torn, tattered and completely soiled.

The barely audible conversation outside her tent called her attention once more. Inspite of its inherent cohesion she could still feel the air of tension in the group and a vague sense of confusion. She could hear only snatches of the outside discussion. Branagan's name was mentioned several times. Sephram was trying his best to instill confidence in them. Something to do with keeping their end of the bargain. It was then that Cerridwen felt a sense of dread. Sephram meant to carry out the original mission to hand her over to whoever paid to have her kidnapped!

She wanted to scream out in frustration. She deeply regretted running out on Branagan. She was convinced he'd had a change of heart. She was almost certain he was going to abandon his mission. And it was also clear that she was truly safer with him. The irony of the situation was not lost on her as her delicate lips curled into a grim half smile.

It was easy for her to discern that to these accomplices of Branagan she was a commodity to be profitably traded. To Branagan...what was she? She couldn't believe that an ordinary mercenary would risk his life twice for his merchandize. There was definitely a desperate look in his light-colored eyes when she was in danger. And the way he reacted when she confronted Arnak...perhaps she was being naive but she was sure her kidnapper was motivated by something else...something other than money.

The flap of her tent opened and she turned to see who her visitor was. She was surprised to see that it was a young woman, just a little older than herself. And from the looks of her, also an assassin. She was carrying her latest meal on a tray made out of large leaves. It was filled with an assortment of roasted meat. The aroma was very appetizing, which made her realize that she was hungry.

The woman knelt before her and set the tray down on the ground within her reach. "Good evening, Your Highness," the female assassin said with a little bow. There was a trace of eagerness and innocence in her eyes and general demeanor.

Cerridwen smiled, not a little relieved that she was not the only female here. "Thank you," she said as she picked up a piece of meat daintily with her fingers and bit into it. It was surprisingly tasty. "This is quite good."

The woman grinned, looking especially pleased with herself. "I'm glad you like it! Caught and cooked it myself."

The princess now looked at the piece of meat under a new light. _Caught?_ "Uhm, exactly what is this?"

The woman winced. "Don't worry about it, Princess, please?"

Cerridwen raised her eyebrows briefly. _Oookay._ She took another bite. _Can't be too picky._ "Won't you have some with me?"

The female assassin was genuinely surprised. "Well, I've actually already had some but a little more wouldn't hurt, I guess." She took hold of a fairly large piece of meat and proceeded to devour it with gusto.

Still smiling, the princess asked, "What's your name?"

"Raven," she replied between mouthfulls.

"I've never met a female assassin before."

"And I haven't met a real princess before either! But there's quite a lot of us female assassins. That outfit you're wearing, for instance, was owned by Armina."

"Was?"

"She was killed not too long ago," she replied with a touch of sadness. "But look at you!" she suddenly brightened up considerably, looking her up and down appreciatively. "You really clean up pretty well, Highness. Armina was the tallest among us but you're even taller. Didn't think it'd fit you. Although, just between the two of us," her voice dropped into conspiratorial tones, "you look better in that outfit than she ever did."

Cerridwen could only smile wanly.

"Say," Raven said, all of sudden becoming serious, "what really happened to Branagan, anyway?"

"I really don't know," the teenage princess replied after a moment's pause, inwardly glad at the change of topic.

"But how were you able to escape him?"

Cerridwen debated whether it was wise to tell the persistent young woman in front of her the whole truth. Not only about the fact that she used her powers as a priestess but also that Branagan had actually set her free. In the end she decided it wouldn't be wise at all. "Branagan was being attacked by Arnak and his group of assassins. He was too distracted so I used that opportunity to escape."

From the dubious expression on the other woman's face it was clear that she failed miserably in convincing her. Well, it was her first attempt at lying. She wasn't exactly expected to get it right the first time around, was she? Besides, it mattered little to her actually if she was believed or not.

"Exactly where are you taking me, anyway?" It was her way of diverting Raven's attention away from her miserable attempt at deception. However, the woman, again, gave her an expression that seemed to say, "nice try, rookie."

"Only Sephram knows," Raven replied after giving her an eyeful. "The heated discussion you hear outside are the others complaining about not knowing the entire plan." She paused, looking the red-haired teenager in the eye. "Maybe _you_ know."

Cerridwen frowned. "How should I know?"

Raven stood, brushing her knees of sand and then straightened. She looked down on the princess. "I think perhaps our leader revealed his plans to you because frankly, I think he likes you."

"Likes me?" It had come as a genuine surprise.

"Yes, Your Highness. I think perhaps that you are exactly his type." With a smirk, the female assassin turned on her heel and exited the tent, leaving the princess with some troubling thoughts.

Cerridwen watched helplessly as Raven disappeared. She wanted to know more. How could Branagan like her? But what was more surprising...and disturbing at the same time was that the knowledge actually pleased her.

---

He had never ridden a peco peco so fast and hard and so long before. Until now, he had no idea that these flightless birds had this kind of speed and stamina. Branagan calculated that they must have traveled more than ten hours straight, covering a distance of more than four hundred miles. The goal was to reach Geffen by midday the next day. By his estimation, they were just past the halfway mark. They had long left Sograt Desert and were now deep into the thick jungles of Prontera.

Branagan heard the shrill shrieks of the gryphon high above the canopy of trees. He didn't bother to look up anymore. Feral had been flying back and forth through the convoy several times that the flapping sound and high pitched cries of the large bird he was riding was now commonplace.

He shook his head in disdain. He thought the knight to be extremely foolish to ride it. A creature like that could never be domesticated. He had encountered the gryphon only once before deep in the marsh lands of Comodo. At that time, his guild was contracted to protect a caravan of merchants on their way to the Pleasure Island. He had lost two good guild members in that encounter. Feral was risking not only his life but the lives of the others under his command. And all that to inflate his already bloated ego.

His eyes wandered to the knights that were closely flanking him, riding their respective peco pecos equally hard. He already knew there was another directly behind him as well. All three were obviously under strict orders to make sure he stayed in line. As if three knights posed a significant threat to him.

His mind didn't really dwell on it though. His thoughts were centered on a certain spirited young woman with long red hair and brilliant green eyes...

---

Vinen cursed himself repeatedly. Glancing to his right he could see the other fifteen-year-olds in the distance, magician apprentices just like himself, successfully able to call down shards of deadly ice spikes from the heavens. He, on other hand, couldn't call down a single firebolt from the sky.

He wanted to be an ice wizard just like many of his classmates but his master strongly recommended that he focus on becoming a fire wizard. "Your temperament is unsuited for the ice element," he remembered his master saying. Bah! He thought that being--

Just then, Vinen heard a thrashing in the foliage to his right. So startled was he that he dropped his wooden apprentice's rod. Oh no! He hurriedly bent to pick it up. When he looked up, what he thought might have been a ferocious beast turned out to be a girl, probably his age, just standing there in tattered and torn clothing. Her light brown hair was unkempt with bits of twigs and leaves sticking out everywhere. Her face was smudged with dirt and her arms and legs were covered in scratches, bruises and other unknown but severe injuries. Vinen could only gape at her.

After several heartbeats, the girl uttered a single word: "Help." And then she collapsed.

---

Feral stared morosely at his mug of bitter ale. He sat alone in a crowded and noisy tavern within the town of Geffen. He couldn't even remember the name of the establishment. His men would not be arriving for another two hours or so. Flying in a gryphon was indeed so much faster. It was landing and restraining it that was such a chore. This time he had to hire the help of two wizards who were successfully able to freeze the damn creature long enough to tie it down.

Feral cast a bored eye around the tavern. Geffen hadn't changed that much since he was last here. It was still small and still filled with people who believed in superstitious nonsense. They didn't even have a decent armory here.

Well, no matter. He was going to stay here only as long as it would take to rest the men, and water and feed their mounts. Then it would take another night's travel north towards the abandoned coal mines in Mt. Mjolnir. To rescue Cerridwen. His grip on the mug tightened considerably.

Cerridwen. He could still remember the first time they had met. He had just gotten permission from the King to woo his just-turned-sixteen daughter. He could remember being so ecstatic he could hardly contain and control himself in front of the father.

Their first meeting was in the palace courtyard...

---

"My Lord," Cerridwen said by way of greeting as she curtsied deeply, her head bowed.

Feral gazed at the young beauty before him. It was a simple but elegant green and white gown she wore made of the finest silk befitting a princess. Although the gown covered most her, the material clung to her slender figure. Her red tresses were loose instead of the usual braid she wore when she presented herself in public. On her head was thin banded tiara decked with the crown jewels.

It was a pleasure to gaze upon her. He had waited almost two years until she was sixteen before being able to officially court the princess.

"M'lady," he greeted in turn, bowing reverently. "Thank you for agreeing to meet me."

"Not at all, Lord Feral," she said.

"Please," he gestured towards a round marble table with two ornate cushioned chairs on opposite sides. It was near the fountain at the center of the cobbled courtyard. The princess nodded and allowed herself to be led towards them. The knight held the chair as she sat. He then crossed to the other chair and sat. Cerridwen held her delicate hands together on her lap as she looked at him expectantly.

"To what do I owe this honor, my lord?"

"Oh, yes," Feral reached under the table and picked up a box wrapped in paper. He placed this on the table in front of her. "Happy birthday, Princess. I deeply regret not being able to join the festivities two days ago."

He saw her eyes light up at the sight of the gift. "May I?"

"Please."

Cerridwen smiled brightly and proceeded to carefully unwrap the gift. She lifted the object, turning it around as she inspected it. It was heart-shaped, the size of her palm, red, smooth and translucent. In the center was a pulsing light. It was also warm to the touch. "It is exquisite, my lord. What is it?" Her green eyes landed on his dark brown ones briefly to ask the question and then focused once more on the stone.

He was pleased to see that she liked the gift. "It's called a flame heart. Although that one is smaller than the usual. I've had it made especially for you."

"Well, I can see that it's neither a necklace nor a brooch. What does one do with a flame heart?"

"Typically, a flame heart is a component used for the forging of fire elemental weapons. But that," pointing idly at the one between her fingers, "is a keepsake, a token of my affection."

All of a sudden the girl stiffened and stopped toying with the object. She looked at him warily. "Affection?"

"Yes, your father gave me permission to court you."

"He did?"

"Yes, m'lady. I have been enamored of you since you were only fourteen."

"You have?"

"I fully intend to visit you, daily, if I can..."

"Daily?"

"Yes, Princess, so you can get to know me better and--are you alright? You seem a little pale."

"Oh, I'm alright. Just...ah...I'm just a little...uhm...will you please excuse me, my lord," she started to rise.

Feral stood as well. "Is something the matter, m'lady?"

"Yes...no! I just...ah...need to speak to my father and...," she uttered something he could barely understand.

"I'm sorry, m'lady, but I didn't quite hear what you said but it sounded like 'wring his neck'."

She laughed nervously. "No, no! I meant that I think I forgot my ring and necklace."

Feral watched as Cerridwen walked away. "Shall I wait for you, Princess?"

She gave an ambiguous wave of a hand without looking back.

"Very well, m'lady. I shall wait for you here." But the girl was already beyond hearing distance.

---

She didn't return. Feral slammed the mug down on the wooden table after taking a long swig. It was the King himself that came to him that evening. He could even remember that he wore a silly-looking scarf around his neck.

Be patient with her, the King had suggested. He excused his daughter's behavior with a "you know how girls are." Actually he didn't but he wasn't about to argue with the King.

The succeeding visits had been more encouraging though. Cerridwen now even allowed his hand to linger on hers a bit longer after assisting her down carriages for instance. He even--

"Lord Feral."

He turned sharply to the right to find a gangly boy kneeling on one knee and bowing his head before him. "Yes, what is it, boy?"

"Begging your pardon, my lord, but earlier today we found a girl who goes by the name Eranelle and--"

"Eranelle? Eranelle...now where did I hear that name before...?"

"Well, sir, she found out you and your warriors were here and well--"

And then it hit him. Faemie mentioned that Branagan's sister went by the name Eranelle. How could the assassin's sister be here? He quickly stood. "Take me to her, at once!"

The noise in the tavern died suddenly as all the patrons focused on the First Knight. The boy was nearly knocked down in fright. "Y-yes, of course, my lord!" He scrambled to his feet and out the exit with the marching Feral in tow.

---

"May I see her now?" Vinen asked the acolyte eagerly as she emerged from the room. It had been nearly eight hours since he carried the strange girl more than four miles to the infirmary in Geffen.

"For the hundredth time, Vinen, she is still unconscious!" the acolyte was clearly exasperated but the young apprentice magician would not be deterred.

"But it's been eight hours!"

"I swear, Vinen, I've almost had it with you--"

"Please!" he begged plaintively.

The acolyte let out a breath of resignation. "Alright, alright! But make it brief." She opened the door slowly and peeked inside. After ensuring that the girl was still decently tucked under the blanket, opened the door wider to let in the audacious youth.

Vinen bounded through the door much to the acolyte's consternation. He approached the bed cautiously. The girl he saw lying peacefully on the bed took his breath away. He didn't realize that beneath the dirt and grime was a pretty face. Her light brown hair, which he originally thought was of a darker hue, fanned out on her pillow like an ornate crown. He felt a surge of pride in him. He actually rescued this girl!

The girl's eyes started to flutter open. And suddenly she bolted upright causing the blanket to fall away revealing--

Vinen quickly shut his eyes tightly, covered his eyes with his hands and turned away. "Uhm, m'lady? You're...uhm...the blanket...?"

"Why, in the pits, am I naked?" she demanded loudly, her voice, he was sure, carried beyond the door.

Sure enough the door burst open revealing one fuming acolyte. The young magician apprentice parted the fingers covering his eyes to see the acolyte's level of rage. He winced as he saw the expression on her face. She took one look at her patient and another at him, and Vinen knew he wouldn't like the conclusion she had arrive at.

Vinen opened his mouth to protest but was surprised when the girl spoke up.

"He didn't do anything, ma'am," the girl said, securing the way the blanket wrapped around her. "It was my fault."

Vinen almost laughed at the way the acolyte's jaw just dropped in disbelief.

"You don't have to pretend covering your eyes anymore."

It took the boy a while to realize that the girl was talking to him. "I wasn't pretending!"

"Well, whatever. I'm already decent," she took another look at herself and changed her mind. "Well, I guess as decent as I can be in a blanket."

The apprentice grinned but immediately wiped it off his face upon seeing the acolyte's scowl.

"We have a change of clothing for you," the acolyte said, her face miraculously transforming from an ugly and angry old hag to a kind and compassionate young nurse.

"That would be very kind of you. Thank you." She turned to regard Vinen as the acolyte left to fetch fresh clothing. "You're the one who brought me here, yes?"

"Yes, I did."

"I am in Geffen?"

"Yes, you are."

"Then I am in your debt."

Embarrassed, the boy laughed it off. "It was really noth--"

"I need one more favor."

He turned serious. "Anything."

---

They were all gathered in the infirmary to hear Eranelle's account of what had happened. Feral's mouth hung slightly open as the fifteen-year-old sister of the assassin, Branagan, recounted her abduction, her captivity, her eventual escape, from the sorceress Tatiana, no less, and her passage through the treacherous mountain ranges of Mjolnir. It was truly impressive, to say the least. Either that or this girl was an excellent liar, which he seriously doubted.

He shook his head after Eranelle concluded her story. "That's quite an ordeal you went through, young lady. You were very brave to have endured such hardship and danger," he said meaningfully. "But I need to hear more about this Dark Lord you spoke of. What does he want with Princess Cerridwen?"

---

Eranelle hesitated, a tortured grimace on her face. She looked up at her inquisitor, almost pleading that she not have to relive the memory of a beast so horrible that she would rather sooner forget.

"Eranelle? _Eranelle!_"

Eranelle's eyes went wide. That was her brother's voice. She abruptly stood and whirled around. "Brother!"

Branagan ran towards her and she rushed to meet him. The assassin scooped his younger sister in his arms and lifted her into a tight hug. There were tears in Branagan's eyes.

"I didn't think I'd see you again!"

Eranelle pushed herself from her brother, presenting her tear-stained face as well. "Well, I'm not quite the weakling you make me out to be!" she exclaimed in mock anger.

Branagan put her down gently and held her by the shoulders, looking deeply in her eyes, his frown deepening. "You...you escaped?"

She could only nod in response.

Her brother let out a cry of anguish and pulled her into another tight hug. "You stupid girl. I knew you'd try such a foolhardy thing. I prayed hard you wouldn't. You stupid, stupid girl. You could have gotten yourself killed!"

---

It was only after Branagan became aware of the fact that everyone was watching and waiting for him did he let go of his little sister. He gave her a brave smile and touched her cheek, wiping her tears away. Then he stood, facing Feral. The assassin's expression turned hard and his eyes became cold.

"We've got a princess to rescue and a sorceress to kill."

Feral's eyes bored into his. They were testing each other's mettle. The First Knight finally nodded.

"Yes, we do."

---

Cerridwen stared at the dark and forbidding entrance of the coal mine. It was close to midnight when they arrived. It was really cold; it was the kind that seemed alive and was voraciously feeding on anyone or anything generating warmth. The long black coat she wore over her body suit did very little to protect her from the invasive chill. She turned to the girl next to her just in time to see her shudder. Was it because it was cold or was she also frightened by the same sight?

"Looks really scary," she said, providing the answer.

The princess let out a breath. "Yes, it is," she said, facing forward again looking into the blackness of the mine. She was drawn to it somehow, as if something was beckoning her to enter. She took one step forward but felt the tug of the chain on her wrist. It was then she remembered that she was cuffed to the female assassin.

"Easy there, Princess," Raven whispered gently, pulling her back some more. "There's nothing in there...except evil."

It was Cerridwen's turn to shudder. What possessed her to even want to enter?

Sephram chose that moment to approach them. "We break camp here."

"Sephram, I don't think this is a good idea."

"Don't interfere, Raven. Branagan made a deal--"

"Branagan would never make this deal!"

"--and this guild always honors its deals," he narrowed his eyes at Raven dangerously but the latter didn't back down. Sephram ignored the implied challenge. "Make sure to secure her." "Her" was Cerridwen, of course.

Raven looked a Cerridwen mournfully after Sephram had left.

The young princess smiled at the other, putting up a brave front. "Don't worry, Raven," she said. "Everything will be okay." She cast a wary eye at the coal mine entrance. _Branagan, if you are still alive_, she prayed, _you had better get me out of this mess you put me in..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Ragnarok Online is the intellectual property of Gravity and Myung-Jing-Lee. The aforementioned content is used here without permission, but with no intent of using it to promote or sell anything, including this document.

* * *

**THE HEART OF CERRIDWEN**

By Tonton Ancheta

**_Chapter 5_**

For once Branagan envied Feral his gryphon as they both streaked overhead, past the calvary of peco pecos that, strangely enough, he was leading. Feral would be arriving a few hours ahead of them. Those few hours could prove crucial to Cerridwen's rescue. For some reason, he wanted to be the one to do it.

The assassin shook his head of that particular desire and focused on the circuitous, uphill wilderness trail of Mt. Mjolnir. The peco pecos were not used to this kind of travel, preferring instead flat terrain. As a result, their progress left a lot to be desired.

Branagan gritted his teeth in frustration. He fervently prayed that the princess was safe. It still wasn't clear from Eranelle's story what exactly this Dark Lord wanted with Cerridwen. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. And the unflattering description his sister gave of him of the monster wasn't very comforting either.

_C'mon, peco peco_, Branagan coaxed the beast mentally as he patted the feathered neck gently, _just a little faster_. It seemed to work as the large flightless bird lurched forward as it negotiated a rather steep incline filled with rocks and loose dirt.

_Please,_ the assassin thought desperately, _don't let me be too late_.

---

A pillar of swirling light appeared before them as Faemie completed the spell that conjured the warp portal. Traveling to Prontera from Geffen was going to take a few days. Warping was much faster. Opening one was a capability unique to members of the caste of priests and priestesses.

She turned to look at her two young companions. Vinen gazed enthusiastically at the portal, obviously eager to try it. Eranelle, on the other hand, who was standing closest to it, just stared at shimmering curtain of light.

"What's wrong, Eranelle?" Faemie asked.

"Will the King really pardon my brother?" Branagan's younger sister asked softly, her light brown eyes not moving away from the portal.

"That's why we need to go see him. You need to make him understand why your brother..." Faemie's brows creased slightly thinking of a more delicate way to mention Branagan's crime. In the end she settled with: "...did what he did."

If Eranelle noticed the hesitation, she didn't show any indication. "My brother kidnapped Princess Cerridwen only to save me," she said instead. "I'm sure he would not have allowed any real harm to come to her."

Faemie planted a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. She felt her let out a cleansing breath. "I have been in the King's service for many years. I have known him to be a just and fair king."

Eranelle nodded almost imperceptibly. "I'm ready," she announced. "Do I just step into the portal?" the girl asked, turning to look up at the priestess.

Faemie nodded and gave a small smile. She watched as Branagan's sister squared her shoulders and walked past the curtain of light and stepped onto the portal. Eranelle vanished instantly. The priestess turned to Vinen. "It's your tu--"

"This is so cool!" Vinen was already walking towards the portal rubbing his palms eagerly together. The apprentice mage didn't hesitate at all as he walked into the portal. Just like Eranelle before him, he vanished.

_My turn_. A slight crease formed on the priestess' brow. The king was indeed just and fair but will he remain so where his daughter was concerned? Faemie took a deep breath. Only one way to find out.

---

Feral watched the pieces of the last drainliar he chopped up flutter to the ground. He straightened up and swiped off the sweat on his forehead with the back of his bracer-covered forearm. There didn't seem to be an end to these winged beasts. The instant he stepped inside the fetid coal mines, long abandoned by miners years ago, these drainliars, huge red rodent-like creatures with wide wingspans, swarmed him. The deeper he went inside the stone man-made tunnels, the more they came at him. They were seriously impeding his progress. He plunged his claymore into the soft, blood-soaked ground and rested both his arms on it as he drew in deep breaths.

He was still at the second level. Branagan said that the meeting with Tatiana was at the third level. Raising his eyes at the bleak nothingness of the tunnels, he knew it would be a real challenge just getting there. He really hated mazes. He no longer knew how long he had been here but he was sure that every moment that passed meant that the rest of his company was closer to arriving. However, each moment that passed also meant one more moment that Cerridwen was in danger. That last thought galvanized him. Feral quickly pulled out his sword and began to sprint with new energy towards the deeper bowels of the coal mines.

---

"...Your Majesty, my brother is not evil," Eranelle concluded her story, her voice quavering with emotion, her eyes desperately entreating the ruler of Rune-Midgard. "I-I beseech you, Your Highness, have mercy on my brother." She gazed intently at the King's face as he sat straight and rigid on his uncomfortable-looking throne. She was hoping for more than the stoic expression she saw on his face. An adviser approached and bent over to whisper in the King's ear. She quickly averted her eyes and lowered her head.

Eranelle stole a glance at Faemie who was standing a few meters away. The priestess nodded in encouragement. So did Vinen who gave her an enthusiastic two thumbs up. She tried to think positive thoughts. Branagan was depending on her to plead his case. She just wasn't sure she did a good enough job.

She straightened herself and looked up as the King cleared his throat. "It seems that you have endured quite a lot, young lady. That you have managed to escape is an extraordinary feat."

Eranelle's heart began to lift. Perhaps there was hope after all. But then a pained expression crossed the King's face. "However, your brother has done me a terrible crime. He has taken someone who is most precious to me." She opened her mouth to speak but he raised his hand. "Regardless of his motives and intentions, he must be tried for his crime."

Tears began to trickle down Eranelle's cheek. "Your Majesty, please..."

The King stood up abruptly. "I have already spoken, young lady. Nothing you say will change my mind." With that he walked regally out of the throne room followed by an entourage of advisers, knights and servants.

Eranelle watched helplessly as the procession disappeared. She kept her face straight but was unable keep the tears from flowing copiously down her cheeks. She had failed her brother.

Faemie and Vinen approached. She felt the priestess' comforting hand on her shoulder and she couldn't hold back the intense grief she felt. She buried her face on Faemie's shoulder and sobbed.

"Shh. There is still hope, Eranelle," the priestess said in a calming voice as she embraced the grief-stricken girl. "Don't give up hope."

---

Branagan ran as fast as he could deep into the bowels of the mines leaving behind the rest of Feral's company. As soon as they stepped into the mines, they were besieged by red winged-creatures that were like familiars except color red and twice as big. He couldn't remember their names. Drain-something. Whatever. The assassin decided that he couldn't afford to dally and he dashed off much to the chagrin of the rest of the party.

Although he was also swarmed by the beasts, he chose to dodge and parry rather than fight whenever possible. Thankfully, because of his natural speed, he was able to successfully avoid most of their attacks. Most. His ninja suit was already tattered, bearing slashes and cuts. His many wounds were beginning to sting as they came in contact with his sweat.

Rounding a corner, Branagan was almost caught off guard as a whole wall of the red beasts blocked his path and started shrieking towards him. With lightning fast reflexes, he leapt upwards, crossing his katars in front of him, covering his face, and met the swarm head on. He advanced by stepping on each passing beast. To anyone watching, it was as if he was dancing on air, kicking, leaping, dodging and parrying. The assassin knew that a single misstep would be fatal and so he sharpened his senses, making each slash and each kick count.

After what seemed like forever, he was able to burst through the throng and hit the ground running. The beasts were relentless. Sensing that their prey had escaped, they turned around and began the pursuit.

The flapping of a hundred leathery wings and the high-pitched shrieking were deafening. Branagan certainly didn't want to repeat the experience of going through such a mass of flying death again. He didn't know what possessed him to do it in the first place. Actually, he did. Cerridwen.

The assassin continued to run like there was no tomorrow.

---

"This is absolute madness, Sephram!" screamed one of the assassins as he crossed his jurs above his head to block the downward slash of a skeleton worker's pick axe. The force of the blow drove him back, causing his feet to dig into the moist dark soil of the mines.

They were nine in the party, including their captive, Cerridwen, who was chained to the hapless Raven. Seven assassins formed a circle around the only two females in the group, protecting them from the advancing onslaught of skeleton workers and mysts, formless purple monsters armed with long spikes that sucked the lifeblood of their targets even from the smallest of cuts.

"We have to turn back!" cried the same assassin, who was able to finally cut down the skel-worker he was fighting. He found himself face to face with a towering myst this time.

"Nobody turns back!" bellowed Sephram in reply. He was facing off with a skel-worker and a myst. Cerridwen saw that this interim leader of Branagan's guild was a skilled fighter, moving with blinding speed that almost equaled what she saw from Branagan. Like her original captor, Sephram was armed with katars. She saw him dodge both the spike from the myst and the pick axe from the skel-worker, with less than an inch to spare. He drove his katar hard and fast into the myst's formless mass, eliciting a savage cry from the monster. With his left foot, he kicked the skel-worker so forcefully that its neck had snapped with a satisfyingly loud crack, bringing it down to the ground permanently. He then focused his full attention to the still-alive myst, mercilessly stabbing it a hundred times, moving faster than the eye could see until it, too, crashed down to the ground, writhing and spasming until it finally died.

Sephram whirled to face the assassin who wanted to retreat, glaring at him with eyes that looked bloodshot with savage anger. "If you leave and abandon the party, I will kill you myself." He cast his eyes over the other assassins. "That goes for all of you!"

Nobody responded as they re-focused their energies on keeping the monsters at bay. It was clear, however, that everyone was growing weary. The number of wounds that each bore was increasing. Cerridwen could see that the ground beneath them was already soaked with the party's blood. Only Raven and herself were unscathed. It hardly seemed fair.

She turned to Raven who was busy shouting warnings to the surrounding assassins. "Raven!" The girl didn't hear.

"Snapshot! Pay attention, you imbecile! Killer, to your right! Mason! Oh no!"

Mason, one of the other assassins, had suddenly been cut down, a pick axe buried painfully in his back right between his shoulder blades. He let out choked groan as he fell to his knees. His body teetered for a second before falling forward, spasming for another second and then no more.

Cerridwen clasped her mouth with her free hand in horror. She didn't know whether to scream or vomit. She had never before witnessed death in such a brutal way.

The two assassins nearest Mason converged on his position effectively closing the gap in the circle. The circle just got smaller.

The princess turned to Raven who looked ashen with shock. She gave the chain that connected them a hard tug. "Raven!" No response. "_Raven!_" Cerridwen reached for the other girl's chin and yanked her face towards her.

The female assassin's eyes were blank and shiny with tears threatening to fall. "Mason..."

"Raven, listen to me. You've got to release me!"

Raven's eyes slowly focused on her. "Wha--release you? I can't do that. Sephram will--"

"Forget Sephram! I can help! And you can fight too once you're no longer chained to me!"

The other girl opened her mouth to protest but closed it soon after. The thought of being able to fight instead of babysitting a princess apparently appealed to her. She touched a button in the middle of her palm just like what Cerridwen saw Branagan did and with a _swoosh_, sharp metal claws extended from her right hand.

The look of sadness in her eyes was replaced by that of determination. "I hope you know what you're doing, Princess, because, frankly, I don't know how you can help."

Cerridwen's face showed a steely determination. "You just watch me."

Raven merely nodded. She raised her katar high and then brought it down hard and fast. Sparks flew as the sharp blades made contact with the chain. The chain offered very little resistance as it gave way like a hot knife through butter.

Cerridwen wasted no time as she stepped into the very center of the circle and stretched out her hands before her, directing them towards one assassin after another, and began healing each one.

The princess turned to look at Raven who was staring at her with eyes wide and mouth agape. "Y-you're a priestess!"

Cerridwen's lips curved upward in a small smile but she immediately turned serious. "I can fight too. I need a weapon." The female assassin didn't budge. It was obvious she still hadn't recovered from her shock. "_Raven!_"

The girl shook her head and her glazed eyes suddenly focused as if awakening from an intense daydream. "You want...what?"

"A weapon. Any weapon..._quick_!"

"Okay, okay," the young female assassin hesitated briefly, obviously thinking of what weapon to give. And then she suddenly whipped around so that she was now facing her fallen comrade. She rushed towards him.

"Raven," Cerridwen said with a touch of exasperation mixed with regret in her voice. "I'm really sorry, there's nothing more I can do about him--"

Raven stood up abruptly and faced her, expertly twirling a pair of stilettos in her fingers.

"That'll do--" the princess stopped when she saw the horrified expression on the other's face. The female assassin's eyes were fixed at a point above her head, behind her. _What now?_

---

Vinen followed Faemie outside the palace and once again his senses were assaulted by the colors and sounds of Prontera, just as he had been when he materialized in the city coming out of the warp portal. There were so much more people here than in Geffen. The people themselves were varied, coming in all manner of shapes, sizes and color.

There were merchants, blacksmiths, and alchemists everywhere as well, selling all manner of things, food items, potions, clothing, armor, weapons--everything imaginable was up for sale!

One such merchant attracted his attention. He approached the stall, unmindful of the fact that both Faemie and Eranelle had already moved on without him. This merchant was selling arc wands. The arc wand was especially made for mages and was considered one of the best wands available. Vinen hoped that eventually he would be able to afford one.

He reached out tentatively to touch the one closest to him, tracing the intricate patterns that adorned the staff from the base slowly up to the top where there was a crown shaped like a shell cradling a large red ruby fashioned into an orb. His fingers were about to touch the orb when he sensed the presence of the stall's owner. Vinen quickly retracted his hand and looked up nervously at the merchant.

To his relief the merchant was smiling brightly. "Do you see something you like, young master?"

"I was just...ah...loo--"

"Vinen!"

He whipped around to find Faemie trailed behind by Eranelle. And one other. She was the most...imposing woman the apprentice had ever seen. She was wearing full battle armor that was gilded with gold. It ended mid thigh, showcasing shapely yet powerful limbs. A crimson cape and a large sword sheathed in a scabbard resting on her left hip completed the ensemble. She was the first female knight he had ever encountered. And from what little he knew about cavalry insignia, this knight was highly placed.

"Vinen, you could've gotten lost."

His attention shifted to the priestess and he realized his misdeed. "I'm really sorry, Faemie. I was--"

"Nevermind. We need to go." Faemie glanced at the knight who gave a brief nod and turned around, pivoting smartly on a foot and started off. She walked confidently forward, not even slowing down as she approached the thick crowd before her. To Vinen's amazement, the crowd parted, as if collectively sensing the approaching aura of one with authority. The wide berth accorded them stayed until all of them were able to pass. After they had all passed, the young mage turned back to see that the path quickly disappeared like it had never been there. Truly amazing. He smiled inwardly. This mission was getting more and more interesting by the moment.

---

Feral stood at the edge of a wide chasm that separated him from the cave that led to the deepest level of the mines. He cast his eyes dubiously at the three rickety railroad tracks that bridged the divide. Each one of tracks had several missing wooden slats as glaringly visible as gaps in someone's front teeth. What was worse was that the only available rail car was sitting the set of tracks which had the most slats that were missing.

The First Knight approached the car, scrutinizing it. He debated whether to physically move it to another, more reliable-looking track, not that the other two tracks were that much better. The car, however, was made of steel and therefore, was likely quite heavy. Feral was already winded from battling drainliars. On the other hand, tempting fate by riding the blasted contraption across a--

_Not again_. The sound was unmistakable. In an instant, his claymore was out of its scabbard and into his hands. He whipped around and dimly saw the figure of a man running towards him. But it was the grizzly sight behind the figure that held his eyes. It was a wall of drainliars. He felt the hairs at the back of his neck rise. He was more accustomed to fighting brutes, bipeds and of course, human warriors. Not this. This was going to get ugly. But far from it for him to--

"_Run! _Don't just stand there! C'mon!" The man he saw earlier zipped past him

Feral's eyes widened. So focused was he on the fast approaching wall of red beasts that he failed to recognize Branagan. He turned his head while keeping his sword still trained towards the drainliars. The assassin was pushing one of the cars forward and making little progress.

"Feral!" he hollered. "Forget those blasted creatures! Help me with this thing!"

The First Knight took one last look at the hurtling mass and then quickly sheathed his sword and rushed toward the assassin. The knight slammed his body onto the rusty frame of the rail car. Feral gritted his teeth in an effort to stunt the pain.

The car begun to move but not as fast as he wanted. He glanced at Branagan who, despite the obvious strain on his face from the desperate effort of pushing the recalcitrant car, was smiling at him!

The knight glared. "What are you smiling about?"

"Nothing," came the reply, which sounded more like a grunt. The smile was still there. "That whole slamming thing you did was really quite...funny."

Feral fumed. He was about to counter with a scathing reply when all of sudden the drainliars were upon them. Whatever harsh words he wanted to throw out died on his lips as darkness descended on him and the assassin.

---

The skel-worker was already raising its pick axe above Cerridwen's head. There was no time. Raven made her decision. She twirled the stilettos one final time as she drew her arms back, aiming for the monster behind the princess.

"Raven!" It was Snapshot, warning her of a myst poised to hack her from behind!

_What the--_ The female assassin's eyes widened as she realized that she had already released the daggers! But instead of heading towards the skel-worker, the stilettos were hurtling straight towards Cerridwen! How could she have been so careless?

She raised her eyes to look at the princess' face expecting to see a horrified expression. She was surprised to see that instead of terror there was concentration. Even more surprising was how she was able to pluck first one and then the other in midair as if she were merely catching floating bubbles! Once again, Raven's jaw dropped and her eyes went wide.

"Raven! Behind you!"

Her battle senses kicked in and quickly leaped forward, rolling into a crouch. And just in time for the myst behind her was just a hairbreadth away from dicing her into pieces. She depressed the button on her left palm and with a metallic _swoosh_, her other katar thrust forward. The myst was upon her, slashing horizontally. She deftly parried with her katar and slashed back. Within seconds, the myst was decimated, lying on the ground at her feet. _Now that felt good!_

She whirled around in time to see the princess dispatch the skel-worker that was behind her. She cast her eyes around and found that they had killed all the skeleton workers and mysts...for now.

"Is there anything else you're not telling me, Princess?" Raven asked as her eyes made a full circle around the area to rest finally on the other's green eyes. The others in the guild edged closer as well. All of them now having a renewed interest in their captive who just happened to save them from certain death.

---

"Interesting." That was all Tatiana had to say as she spied the proceedings below.

The sorceress caught movement out of the corner of her right eye and immediately knew who it was.

"Mistress," her chief hunter said, "the other hunters are ready. What are your orders?"

Tatiana's gaze at the proceedings below didn't waver. "Tell them to get ready. Watch for my signal and we shall reveal ourselves."

"As you wish, Mistress."

The sorceress narrowed her eyes, focusing them on the princess. A priestess who can fight. "Very interesting indeed."

---

The King entered his chambers followed closely by his attendants, his eyes focused on the large, ornate full length mirror at the corner farthest from the towering doors of the room. It was the only mirror that the King had allowed in his presence in areas of the castle that he frequented.

"Leave me."

The attendants bowed low from the waist as they backed away from him and then turned before leaving the room altogether.

A small smile tugged at the corner of the King's lips when he heard the double doors close.

---

They entered what appeared to be an abandoned building whose only entrance was via a dark alley. It was only when they were facing a very run down wooden door that Eranelle looked up and took note of her surroundings. Why were they here?

So engrossed was she on her internal turmoil that it was only then that she began questioning what she was doing here. She raised her eyes at Faemie only to be surprised to see that the priestess was already looking straight at her.

"I'm not so sure what we're doing here either," Faemie said, as if reading her mind.

"You'll find out soon enough," said the female knight they followed all the way here. She turned to knock three times on the door in quick succession and then paused. After a few seconds she repeated the three knocks. The door immediately opened to reveal another knight, this time a male one. His inquisitive blue eyes swept through all of them.

"It's okay, Jothanel," the female knight said, "they're with me."

The male knight nodded once and then stepped back, leaving the door open for all of them to enter.

Faemie cast her eyes around the room and then let them settle on the knight that led them here. "So, Corneria," she said, finally addressing the female knight by her name. "As far as I can see, you've got most of the Royal Guard in here. What's going on?"

Eranelle noticed that the knights did bear insignias of the Royal Guard. Just then, another figure emerged from the shadow. She looked up and her eyes went wide with wonder. The figure was another female, like a knight but different. As imposing as Corneria was, this one was even more so. She wore a dark cape and draped behind her was a large shield. Sheathed at her side was a large sword but by the looks of it, it was a one-handed one, not like the two-handed swords she was used to. She also wore chain mail that hugged her frame. It was fashioned like a one piece dress that ended down to her calves.

"Wow," she heard Vinen whispered behind her.

Even Faemie seemed to have been overcome by curiosity as she forgot that she was waiting for an answer. She too gazed at the newcomer. Eranelle noticed that behind the woman were others just like her but all men.

"I'll explain why you're here, Faemie, but first," Corneria glanced at the woman who had just entered, "let me first introduce you to Sunset Evestrom. She's a crusader. The men behind her are also crusaders. That's Nigel Dan'Ithel, Rusty Shadowsong, Jak Moonstream, and Ivan Ashmore." Each crusader nodded in turn.

"Crusaders? I thought all their kind was lost in the Battle of Yunia 20 years ago."

"I did too until Sunset here sent word that a whole bunch of them were coming back to Prontera," Corneria said shrugging. Sunset gave a small smile but said nothing. "We're going to need them for the uprising."

Faemie's eyes widened. "Uprising?" she uttered incredulously.

"Yes, Faemie," the female knight replied, her eyes boring into those of the priestess.

"But--"

"Think about it. You were there. Do you think that was the King you were facing?"

"This is absurd! Who else could it be?" The priestess whipped around and took firm hold of the arms of both Eranelle and Vinen, preparing to take them out of the building. "I cannot be a part of this!"

"The King has taken out every mirror in the castle except for those that are in the rooms. And for the past several months, nobody has ever been allowed to enter his bedchambers. Not even the Queen."

The priestess stopped at her tracks, just as she was about to reach the door. She slowly turned and looked at Corneria.

"That's right," the knight continued. "The Queen has been banished from her very own room. She is just keeping appearances but even she believes that the person sitting on the throne is no longer her husband.

"She has been persuading us to confront the King but we were the ones who were hesitant."

Faemie's brows furrowed. "This is...unbelievable!"

"But, Faemie," Eranelle looked up at the priestess who still had her hand on her arm, "if that's true then--"

"Then the princess' kidnapping was arranged by the King, himself. The fake one that is."

Eranelle twisted to face the knight, her eyes literally lightened up. "That means--"

"Don't be too confident, girl," Corneria said gently but firmly. "Your brother still kidnapped the princess and that's a crime in any book."

The young girl nodded slowly, her eyes cast downwards.

Faemie turned around as well, releasing the arms of the youths. "So what do you plan to do? Kill the King?"

"No. Not exactly. We need to find out first who he is."

---

King Erondral finally stepped in front of the mirror and faced himself. His true self.

In the reflection, the Dark Lord bared his hideous fangs in a wide smile.

---

"You may think that just because you saved my men's life, it would change everything," Sephram said, narrowing his eyes at his prisoner.

Raven quickly approached him and gave his shoulder a shove. "What's happening to you, Sephram?"

"Nothing is happening to me, Raven. Have you forgotten that we have made an agreement to deliver her to Tatiana?"

"No we didn't," the female assassin said, her expression darkening. "You were the one that agreed to do this."

"What choice did we have? Eranelle was kidnapped, remember?"

"Branagan didn't want to go through with it. You made the choice for him."

"It doesn't matter now, Raven," exasperation was beginning to creep into Sephram's voice. "We've gotten this far and it doesn't make sense to back out now."

Raven slowly moved so that she stood between Sephram and Cerridwen. "Well, I can't let you go through with it," she declared firmly.

"Uhm..."

Both Sephram and Raven turned to look at the teenaged princess.

"Is Eranelle Branagan's girlfriend?" she timidly asked.

"No, silly," Raven said, waving a hand dismissively. "Eranelle is Branagan's sister."

Sephram watched with interest as the princess' eyes widen in realization. She tried to hide it but the assassin noted that the girl was greatly relieved to know that Eranelle was just the sister.

"So Eranelle got kidnapped?"

"Listen," Sephram said, his tone exasperated, "we don't have time for this. We must push on!"

"No!" Raven said emphatically, moving between him and the princess. "This is the wrong thing to do!"

"For the last time, Raven," he ground out, moved closer to the female assassin. "If you don't get out of my way--"

"What, Sephram," it was Snapshot. "What will you do with Raven?" Snapshot was already beside Raven, glowering at the other assassin.

"Damn you, Snapshot," Sephram growled. "We made this deal."

"No, Sephram," Snapshot replied. "You did. None of us did."

"Very well. You leave me no other option." Sephram distended his claws once more and moved towards Snapshot.

---

Faemie stood impatiently behind a structure not so far away from the palace. She felt ridiculous hiding the way she was. She wasn't doing anything wrong. Although she did know something; something she ought to report to the authorities. Every fiber of her being was screaming at her to leave the group she was with and just march up to the palace and speak to the King of it. So why couldn't she do it?

Beside her, leaning calmly against the same structure that hid Faemie was Sunset Evestrom. Her one knee was bent, the heel of her boot planted squarely against the wall, her arms were crossed in front of her, her eyes closed. The priestess spared the crusader an annoyed glance. How could she be so calm when they were about to do something mutinous? Faemie turned away to glance at the palace entrance, her brows furrowed.

"You had better calm down, Faemie," Sunset said without opening her eyes.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," the priestess said, shaking her head. She then abruptly turned to face the irritatingly calm crusader. "Say we are successfully able to corner the King, how do we know for sure that he isn't really the King?"

"We have our ways," the other said cryptically.

The priestess waited for the other to elaborate. When it was clear that the crusader wasn't going to do so, the priestess hmphed and then turned away again, her eyes glued to the palace once more.

Just then, Faemie heard a soft but distinct whistling sound.

"That's our signal," Sunset declared, opening her eyes.

The priestess took a deep breath. I still can't believe I'm doing this, she thought grimly.

---

Tatiana frowned as she saw the situation below worsen. The assassin Sephram approached the interfering assassins, both his claws extended, poised to attack. It was time for her to intervene.

The sorceress caught the eye of her chief hunter and nodded. Immediately and simultaneously, all thirty hunters rose from the crouched positions and revealed themselves. They all took an arrow from their quivers, loaded up their bows and aimed at the party of assassins below.

The assassins sensed the movement and instinctively looked up.

"Looks like you're having problems keeping your subordinates in line, Sephram," said Tatiana. Her hands were on each side of her hips and she was smiling triumphantly at the group below.

"M-mistress Tatiana," Sephram stammered as he raised his eyes to her. He immediately retracted his claws, which was the opposite of what the others in his party did. "Mistress Tatiana, we have delivered the princess just as you ordered."

"I can see that, Sephram. She turned out to be quite a handful, isn't she?"

Princess Cerridwen stepped forward, a determined look on her face. "What do you want with me?" she demanded.

Sephram whipped around to face his wayward prisoner. "Silence, girl!"

"That'll do, Sephram," Tatiana said mockingly. "Tell your men to back off and head back to the surface. I'll take care of the princess from here on end."

The assassin turned to face her again. "Ah...of course, Mistress. But there is the matter of the gold you promised. And Branagan's sister. You said you will release her."

"Don't you trust me, Sephram? You'll get your reward and your friend's sister soon enough."

"With all due respect, Mistress Tatiana, but that isn't our deal--"

"Well, the deal has changed, assassin. I said leave this place or my hunters are going to unleash their arrows on you."

Tatiana saw Sephram's fists clench tightly at his sides. She smiled wickedly. Seven assassins and a priestess against her hunters who were on high ground. The sorceress was fervently hoping they'd try something. It would be a pity for her hunters to not have their target practice.

---

"The palace is under attack!"

The Captain of the Guard whipped around to face the messenger. "What?"

The messenger was about to open his mouth to repeat what he said when the bells of alarm around the palace began sounding off.

"Man your posts!" the captain barked. "You, you, you and you," he pointed to four of his elite guards, "come with me. We must protect the King!"

The five began running in the direction towards the King's quarters. They stopped on their tracks as they rounded a corner. The captain saw a group of four knights heading towards the same destination. He recognized one of them immediately.

"Corneria!"

Corneria and her party stopped and faced them. "Captain."

"The palace is under attack. Go to your post. I'll get the King to safety."

Instead of following his orders however, Corneria unsheathed her sword. This was immediately mimicked by the other knights in her party. Without another word, they rushed them.

"Corneria--!"

But the captain's befuddlement was only temporary. The rage that immediately followed, on the other hand, was not. It became instantly clear to him that Corneria and her band of rogue knights were the interlopers. "You shall pay for this treason dearly, Corneria!" With that he and his elite guards rushed to meet the attack.

---

Vinen was pacing up and down the room, his wooden rod in hand thumping down on the floor in time with his steps. It was all making Eranelle's head hurt. "Can you just, like, sit still?" she pleaded, putting a hand over her head. "You're making me dizzy with your pacing!"

"I just don't like doing nothing," the apprentice mage said as he continued to walk.

"I don't like waiting either but that's what Faemie said we should do."

This time Vinen did stop and turned to face the girl. "Funny." He was smirking.

"What?" Eranelle demanded.

"You didn't strike me as someone who always did what she was told."

The girl made a face at the 15-year-old apprentice. "And what do you propose to do, hot shot?"

"I have a few spells up my sleeve--"

Eranelle smirked.

Vinen pretended not to notice. "--and you can certainly fight. We can join them."

The girl, only a year younger than the annoying mage, shifted in her seat. She faced the Dark Lord, managed to escape Tatiana and her guards and survived the treacherous mountain pass of Mjolnir. Corneria and her knights were vastly outnumbered, her additional complement of crusaders notwithstanding. She looked up to see Vinen giving her a knowing look and a half-smile.

"We are just going to go over the palace and see what's going on--"

"Yes--!"

"--from the outside. Are we clear on that?"

"You know what?" Vinen said, all of a sudden looking at her sideways. "Why should I take orders from you? I'm older than you!"

"Because we're not leaving this room unless it's on my terms."

"Boy, you're bossy."

"Get used to it," Eranelle said with a wink. She stood. "We need weapons."

"I've got all I need right here," Vinen said, grinning as he held up his rod.

Eranelle rolled her eyes. "I'm going to regret this for sure."

---

Branagan and Feral crawled out of a hole in the wall a few meters above Tatiana and her hunters.

"Uh oh," the assassin whispered immediately as he quickly surveyed the unfolding scene below. He was immensely relieved to see that the red-haired, green-eyed teenage princess was still alive. His eyes grew wide as he spied her outfit. It was a form-fitting beige body suit, partially concealed by a black cloak. It looked very familiar.

Feral, apparently, saw the same thing and was nothing short of scandalized. "By the horn of Baphomet! What's that thing she's wearing?" he whispered back vehemently.

"You have to admit, it suits her."

"Shut up!" the knight glared at the assassin. "This is one more thing you'll be paying for when this is over!"

Branagan shook his head in resignation. "Whatever. In the meantime," he nodded towards Tatiana standing just a few meters away directly below them, "how do you want to handle this?"

And this time, Feral grinned making the assassin see how his name truly fit. "Skulking around was never my style, assassin. We're going the direct approach."

For once, Branagan agreed with the knight. There didn't seem to be any other way. "Okay. On three?"

"On three."

The assassin took a deep breath. "One..."

"Two..." Feral's eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Three!" both of them said in unison as they launched themselves from their crouched position down on their unsuspecting victims!

---

Cerridwen saw them first. It was Branagan! Her eyes widened in both surprise and delight.

"By the gods! It's Branagan!" Raven couldn't contain herself.

"Oh no!" the princess cried out as she heard the unmistakable sounds of multiple arrows being released. "Take cover!" The teenager quickly pulled the female assassin towards her and chanted the spell for Kyrie Eleison. A hundred arrows were rushing towards them and she wasn't sure her shield was strong enough to withstand them. She shut her eyes and waited for the first of the missiles to hit.

---

Feral's eyes widened in horror as the arrows sped towards the group of assassins below. He heard Branagan bellow in frustration and watched as he tried to take out as many of the hunters as he could. His speed was an incredible sight to behold but it wasn't enough. He counted fourteen hunters still standing.

The assassins below were equally fast as they dodged the arrows but inevitably, some of the missiles found marks and a few of them went down. Those assassins that were hit dove towards the princess in a final act to protect her.

It mostly worked but a few arrows did go through but miraculously, they seemed to bounce harmlessly off the princess and the female assassin she was shielding. What in blazes is going on here?

The knight realized that his attention was distracted long enough and that the princess was reasonably safe. It was his job to take care of the sorceress, Tatiana. Just as he turned to begin his search he felt a powerful force throw him several meters back! His body arched in excruciating pain as he was engulfed in electricity.

"Well, well," he heard Tatiana's voice over the cackling noise of the Jupitel Thunder spell consuming him. "If it isn't Prontera's First Knight, Feral."

The spell finally ended and he felt blood trickling down his nose and ears and he could hardly breathe. He opened his eyes and saw the loathsome sorceress standing imperiously before him. Many saw her as beautiful but all he could see was evil incarnate. He struggled to move his limbs but the powerful spell seemed to have paralyzed him. He closed his eyes and willed life back into his arms and legs.

He heard the cruel laugh of the sorceress. "I've prepared a special spell, just for you, Feral. It's called Storm Gust. Do you know what that is, my dear knight?" she asked, clearly delighting in tormenting him further. "No? Well, let me tell you. It's a very powerful spell. It took me a while to master it, you know. It creates a mini-tornado filled with razor sharp shards of ice, designed to rip and tear anything that's within its vortex. I'd say it's a fitting end for one as prominent as you. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I hope you burn in the hellfires of Juno, Tatiana!"

"Ah well," the other said in mock resignation. "You were never one for intelligent conversation anyway," she said as she began to step backwards until she was a few meters away. She raised her bejeweled wand and began chanting the spell. The wind began picking up, causing her cape to billow around her.

Feral opened his eyes and saw what seemed like clouds forming at the ceiling of the cave directly above him. I will _not_ go out like this, he thought fiercely. _I will not!_

---

Sunset glanced at Faemie as she briskly walked to the next part of the palace they needed to penetrate. The crusader saw that the priestess was immensely relieved that none of the guards they put down were killed or seriously injured. "It is not our intention to kill anyone, if possible, that stand in our way," she said, answering Faemie's unasked question. "These guards are just doing their jobs."

"You could have said so from the start," was the priestess' only answer.

"Forgive me," Sunset replied, "but there wasn't any time."

At the end of the great corridor, a large group of hunters suddenly appeared and took formation. Some of them went down on one knee while the rest stood, all aiming their arrows at them. A group of four priests stood behind them, ready to heal the wounded.

"You shall not pass!" the leader of the hunters commanded. "Stop right there and drop your weapons or we shall be forced to fire upon you!"

Sunset stopped. The five crusaders who were flanking her immediately took position in front of her and put up their large shields. The crusaders who were behind took the flanking positions and raised their shields above their heads.

No sooner had they done this did the hunters open fire. None of the arrows penetrated, all of them bouncing harmlessly against the shields, both in front and above for those hunters who attempted to send volley shots.

"Looks like it's a standoff," said Faemie, matter-of-factly, although Sunset could clearly see that she was impressed with the defensive formation and the speed in which it was coordinated. "So what are we going to do now?" the priestess asked.

"Watch."

Another wave of arrows arrived. This time, however, they came at such force that the crusaders had to brace at the impact. But no sooner after the last arrow fell to the ground did the crusaders in front crouch down and those whose shields were raised over their heads lower them and immediately hurtled them towards the hunters.

Sunset watched as ten large spinning shields mowed down the hunters and then returned to the outstretched arms of their owners. "We call that Shield Boomerang," she said to the priestess beside her.

Faemie audibly gulped. "Charming," she said, dryly.

The crusaders returned to the original formation with Sunset and the Faemie in the lead. They marched forward, stepping over the unconscious bodies of the hunters and priests as they passed them.

"Are they..."

"Don't worry, they're all alive."

Faemie nodded and hurried to keep pace.

---

Corneria leapt and rolled out of the way of the captain's wide swipe of his sword. She landed neatly on her feet at the end of the roll. She quickly brought her broadsword up in front of her in a ready stance.

That was close, she thought as she ignored the drop of sweat that threatened to spill over her brow and into her eye. He's not the Captain of the Guard for nothing. She could see from her peripheral vision that her knights were too busy crossing swords with those that accompanied her opponent to be of any use to her.

"Give it up, Corneria," the captain said, his voice ominous as he approached. He held his broadsword in one hand, pointed downwards but in front of him. "Why are you doing this?"

"Haven't you noticed, captain? The King that has been sitting in the throne this many weeks is not the true King!" the female knight said, standing her ground.

"How could you say that?"

"Open your eyes, captain," she pleaded, "it is as plain as the full moon that's shining outside the palace!"

"That's ridiculous!" the captain spat out. "You are nothing but a traitor. You bring shame to the Knight's Code."

"Captain, please--"

The captain rushed forward so suddenly that Corneria barely had enough time to block his sword with her own. Again and again, the steel of their swords met, neither one giving the other an opening with which to take advantage. However, the female knight was straining against the superior strength of the captain.

Before long, she found herself with her back pushed against the wall, her sword crossed against the other's just centimeters in front of her. She pushed with all her might but the captain in front of her would not budge.

"Give it up, Corneria," the captain said with a sneer. "You can't win."

The female knight closed her eyes. He was right. She can't win. At least, not if she played by his rules. She opened her eyes and gave one final push with all her might. The captain was only momentarily surprised but it gave Corneria the bit of space she needed.

She slackened the hold on her sword as the captain pushed back in response. She allowed herself to slide down the wall causing her opponent to move forward.

Corneria then release her sword as it got pinned to the wall. With her hands, she pushed herself forward, sliding on the floor on her back under the captain. Just as she passed his legs, she unsheathed two daggers from her sides and slashed at the area just above the captain's ankles.

The captain roared in pain as he crashed painfully on his knees, both his and her swords clattering noisily on the marble floor. Corneria made to dash for her weapon but the captain quickly seized his and pointed it up at her, effectively blocking her path. He attempted to stand but quickly fell down again.

All around her, the palace guards were felled by her knights, obviously distracted by the plight of their leader. Her companions came to her side immediately and as one pointed their own swords back at the kneeling captain.

"You're all a bunch of traitors!" he growled, his eyes were red with rage as he resignedly threw his sword back on the floor. "Get it over with," he said, resting his head against the wall, clearly exposing his neck. He closed his eyes and therefore didn't see the powerful punch that Corneria squarely landed on his jaw.

She picked up her sword and straightened up, took a cleansing breath of relief and grinned at her companions. "The easy part is done. Let's go get the King."

"She calls that easy?" one of her knights muttered under his breath as he followed Corneria towards the King's chambers.

---

Tatiana's chief hunter was proving to be such a pain in the posterior as Branagan tried to put him down. Even the hunter's falcon kept getting in the way. As successful as he was in dodging the arrows, he wasn't having much luck doing the same with the falcon. Both his arms already bore multiple additional lacerations. In the end, he had to dispose of it using a well-aimed shuriken right into the beast's heart.

The hunter became careless in his grief for his falcon's demise and began attacking carelessly. It was only after Branagan cut down the hunter did he realize how far he was led away from Feral and the rest of the group. He knew there were hunters still around but that his party of assassins were already taking care of them. But what of Cerridwen?

He quickly ran back to the area where he left Feral. He stopped dead on his tracks as he came out of the tunnel he was in and into the open. On the ground was Feral and by the looks of it, badly injured. Standing before him was the sorceress. This is _not _good, he thought.

Movement from just below the knight caught his eye. It was Cerridwen! She was trying to climb up to where the knight was. _Definitely not good!_

The sight galvanized Branagan as he ran the inside circumference of the cave, his eyes never leaving either Feral or Cerridwen. Tatiana was already raising her wand. Clouds were beginning to form above Feral. Cerridwen was going to get caught in whatever spell that blasted sorceress was conjuring. Faster, _faster! _He willed his legs to run faster than he'd ever run before.

---

Raven was fighting two hunters at a time, one behind the other. Each one was taking turns firing shots at the female assassin. Hot tears of rage were pouring out of Raven's eyes. Only she, Snapshot and Sephram survived the initial barrage of arrows that were rained on them. She was going to avenge her friends' death, even if it caused her own life to be forfeit.

She felt a flash of pain as an arrow grazed her cheek. "That's a lucky shot, you bastard! A hundred zenies says you can't do that again," she snarled at the hunter. In response he quickly loaded his bow. When he looked up, the assassin was gone!

And then out of nowhere, spikes began to thrust upwards from the ground, piercing both hunters multiple times until both fell down dead. Raven rematerialized in front of their prone bodies. Her eyes narrowed at them. Death hardly seemed a fitting punishment for these two, she thought.

She raised her eyes looking for more of Tatiana's hunters to dispose of. Instead of hunters, she saw the princess frantically trying to climb up to the ledge where the sorceress was. She moved her eyes upwards to see a knight lying prone at the sorceress' feet. And it looked like she was already creating one hell of a spell.

"Cerridwen! No!"

---

Eranelle and Vinen pressed onwards into the palace, with the girl in front holding a ridiculously large sword with both her hands, and the boy cowering behind her holding onto her dress, matching her cautious steps with his own. There were several pockets of fighting happening all over the place, which they had managed to avoid. It was difficult to know who was who since they all seemed to be wearing the same gear, all bearing the same insignia. It was nothing short of a coup!

"This is all your fault, Vinen," Eranelle grumbled for the umpteenth time as she peered around a corner to make sure that the coast was clear. "If you hadn't run inside the palace, we wouldn't be here."

"What good would it be waiting outside the palace?" Vinen replied, also for the umpteenth time. "It would be no different than as if we were still in the room."

"Oh do shut up!" was the girl's only retort. "This palace is a lot bigger than I thought. We'll never find Faemie here!"

"We'll find her, Eranelle," the boy said, mustering as much confidence as he could in his voice, but failing utterly. "...somehow."

"Some comfort you are!"

---

Sunset and her crusaders (together with Faemie) arrived at almost the same time as Corneria and her knights right in front of the King's chambers.

"Did you run into any trouble?" Corneria asked.

"Nothing we couldn't handle," Sunset replied with a shrug.

The female knight smiled. "Shall we then?" she asked, nodding towards the double doors of the chambers.

"After you."

Corneria nodded and then as one, she and her knights rushed through the doors followed quickly by the crusaders.

The King stood there, right in the center of the room, clearly expecting them. His eyes were bloodshot.

"Corneria," he said, "I'm very disappointed in you. Haven't you been taught to knock before entering?"

In response, the female knight brandished her sword and cautiously approached.

"Careful, Corneria," Sunset said, carefully watching both the King and the knight.

"And who is this?" the King asked, eyeing the crusader. "Why I haven't seen your kind in ages."

Instead of replying, Sunset focused on Corneria. "Get ready," this she whispered to Faemie who had already raised her arms, her palms directed towards the female knight.

"Whoever you are," Corneria said as she took a step closer to the King, "you're coming with us to answer a few questions."

The King slowly turned to face the knight. He stared at her for several moments and then without warning pointed a finger at her. A large blast of fire shot out from his entire arm and rushed towards Corneria!

"Faemie!" Sunset shouted.

The priestess needed no further goading. She was already feeding healing energy towards the knight as she was engulfed from head to toe in flames. Sunset and her crusaders rushed towards the King but stopped to see that instead of the King stood an enormous being, with the face of a skull. Two large snakes were draped over his shoulders and were hissing fiercely at them.

The crusaders backed away slowly. Sunset saw that Corneria was down on one knee several meters away from any immediate danger. Smoke was rising from her entire body and parts of her armor were singed but other than that she was okay. The female crusader turned to focus once more on the immense being before her who was looking back at her in a way akin to that of a predator looking at his trapped prey.

Corneria stood on wobbly legs. She supported herself with her sword, which she dug into floor. "Sunset, look."

The female crusader followed the direction of the other's eye and saw a prone figure behind the monster. It was the King! Perhaps the true one!

"Is that the Dark Lord," Faemie asked, her eyes glued to the being. Like everyone else, she had to crane her neck to see the face. It was over seven feet tall!

"It certainly looks like him," Sunset replied, not taking her eyes away.

"What about the King? I have to go to him."

"Not until we bring this monster down."

"Can we defeat it?"

"Only one way to find out," the female crusader said. She nodded towards her fellow crusaders and as one they charged the monster.

---

The spell was almost complete. Feral could feel it. He had to do something and he had to do it now! He only had one shot at this and he would have to be fast otherwise, Tatiana would easily be able to thwart him. He closed his eyes tightly and concentrated. He had to make sure that there was enough life in his arms and legs again to make his move. When he was certain that there was, he took a deep breath and quickly rose.

---

Tatiana looked down and her eyes widened. Impossible! How could Feral stand after the Jupitel Thunder I unleashed on him? And yet there he was, standing, clutching his sword tightly. She looked up at her wand as it spewed energy into the dark clouds that have formed above. Her spell wasn't ready yet!

---

Good! Branagan saw that Feral was able to stand. He didn't allow himself to slow down though. The spell was still being formed. He didn't know whether he could stop it but perhaps he could push Feral out of the way.

He realized in that moment how utterly foolish that sounded. Why would he risk his own neck to save that pompous knight? He shook the thoughts from his head. He didn't have time to analyze his own actions. Something just told him that this was the right thing to do.

He focused again at the knight. He brought his sword with both his hands up to his right shoulder. And then with a loud roar, he brought it swinging downward with such force that a large gash was created on the ground. He followed through until the tip of the sword was directed towards Tatiana. Incredibly, the gash traveled, spewing rocks and earth everywhere, as if some living thing was under the ground eager to reach its target.

The force slammed into the sorceress and she screamed! Before his eyes, whatever energy Feral had unleashed began to tear into the woman, shredding her armor and clothing, even as she was thrown several hundred meters towards the other end of the cave like a rag doll! She crashed into the wall, causing a crater to form and then she fell lifelessly against a boulder.

But the spell was still forming! He was still several seconds away. Feral had already slumped down on his knees, too weak to stand up. "Feral!"

And then it happened. Indeed, like a tornado, a huge cone of wind filled with ice dropped down from above and engulfed the knight. Almost like the force that Feral used on the sorceress, the shards of ice began to tear into the knight. The strong winds carried him into the air and he was spinning in every direction. Blood was spraying everywhere!

Branagan leapt up as he approached the edge of the spell and forcefully, with all the strength he could muster, pushed the knight out of the maelstrom. In that same instant, his eyes widened in the pain and shock of finding himself in the very center of the vortex. Daggers of ice began piercing him.

So this is the end, Branagan thought. His world darkened and it was once again the image of a certain red-haired, green-eyed princess that he saw before everything went black.

---

One by one, to Faemie's horror, the knights fell, despite her best efforts to heal them. Even the crusaders were not having luck. Blessed as they were with the ability to heal themselves, they thankfully didn't need her assistance as much.

It didn't help, however, that this creature was able to teleport and they had to rush to track its whereabouts within the palace each time it disappeared. Fortunately, the monster seemed to have weakened from the continuous bombardment.

Two crusaders once again stepped into the path of the Dark Lord and cast their complex Grand Cross spell on the ground where he stood. She had never seen such a spell before. It was not unlikely her own Magnus Exorcimus but this one seemed much more versatile.

The Dark Lord stood frozen on its tracks as the energies from the twin crosses wrought their damage on it but it continued to plow forward, albeit drunkenly, and with spells of its own, dispatched the two crusaders that sought to destroy it.

"Sunset!"

Faemie saw Corneria hobble towards the far end of the room calling out to the last crusader standing, Sunset Evestrom. Like the two crusaders before her, she stood in the path of the monster.

"Sunset, it's useless! Get out of there!"

Sunset wasn't listening, however, focused as she was on the monster before her. "We have destroyed your kind before, monster. We will do it again!"

"You...are...welcome to try. But know this, crusader...even if you destroy me now, I will rise again!"

Light from another grand cross engulfed the creature and it visibly weakened even more. It wobbled backwards. Just as they all thought it would fall, it brought its huge, clawed hands together. A ball of red energy formed immediately. This it unleashed on the female crusader who barely had time to bring her shield up to block it. The force pushed her backwards, slamming her against the wall, which buckled against the onslaught and started crumbling on top of her.

Faemie immediately sent a Kyrie spell towards the crusader, hoping it was successfully able to protect her from the rubble. She turned back and her eyes widened in terror. The Dark Lord was standing just a few meters from her and it was staring intently at her.

She quickly raised her arms; her palms directed at the beast and fired a bolt of holy light after another. Each one would hit the monster causing it to stagger briefly but nothing more.

Faemie gave a small yelp in surprise as her back bumped against a wall. She didn't realize she had been taking a step backwards with each bolt she fired. Now she was trapped.

"Hey, you monster!" Corneria yelled in the background.

Faemie peered behind the Dark Lord to see the knight raise her sword like a spear and hurled it towards the monster. It struck right between its shoulder blades and the creature roared so loud the whole palace shook!

The Dark Lord whipped around, pointed a finger at the knight much like it did the last time and blasted her away.

"Corneria!"

The priestess watched as the knight hit the wall forcefully, like so many of the others, and then slumped down to the floor. Faemie ran towards her. The monster made to swipe at her but missed, almost falling down in doing so.

As soon as she approached the fallen knight, she picked her up, hugging her to herself. She felt the labored breathing of the warrior and felt relief. The priestess looked up to see the creature lumbering towards them. There was nothing more she could do at this point but wait for the inevitable.

Just then she saw a small girl leaping into the air and landing between her and the creature, forcefully thrusting the sword she held onto the marble floor. Fire energy seemed to emanate from the sword and it blasted the monster.

"Now, Vinen!"

Faemie quickly turned to see a boy, this time, holding his rod aloft, his eyes shut tightly and his mouth busily mouthing incantations. From above, hot bolts of fire rained down on the Dark Lord, causing it to roar in pain.

With a battle cry of her own, the girl, who Faemie finally recognized to be Eranelle, wrenched the sword from the marble floor and rushed towards the monster.

"Eranelle, no!" Faemie screamed.

The girl launched herself into the air once more and buried her sword into the heart of the writhing creature, pushing it with all her might until only the hilt could be seen. Together, both the Dark Lord and the girl crashed to the ground.

The priestess hurriedly propped Corneria against the wall and rushed towards the girl only to find Vinen already helping the girl from the creature's carcass. Eranelle leaned against the boy, who in turn was blushing furiously at the close proximity of the girl, as they both stepped as far away as possible.

Faemie couldn't wipe the amazement and surprise from her face as she watched the two.

Finally, Eranelle turned to face her. She couldn't bring herself to look up. "I'm really sorry, Faemie. I...well, both Vinen and me didn't want to stay in the room any longer, and...and we felt you needed our help...and..."

The priestess smiled, shaking her head at them. She brought them both to her and hugged them fiercely. She was very happy they came to help.

---

Cerridwen finally cleared the ledge and found that instead of Feral, Branagan was inside the storm! She cried out his name in terror. She quickly raised her hands and fed healing energy towards him. She averted her face but tried to keep her eyes open in spite of the strong winds. She dared not enter the vortex or she feared she would not be able to cast the healing spell.

"Please," she prayed, "Branagan, oh please be all right." She was already getting weaker by the second. She had never seen such a spell before. She had never seen such fury before. "Please let it end already," she was screaming this plea as she slowly went down on her knees with her arms still outstretched before her, sending what last reserves of energy she had.

And then it was over. The storm and the clouds dissipated instantly, leaving only the broken body of an assassin as evidence of its existence. Cerridwen's arms dropped to her side of their own accord. She gazed at the prone body of the assassin. He was still bloodied and she saw that he still had many open wounds, his life slowly drenching the ground under which he lay.

Slowly she crawled towards him. She immediately cradled his face in her arms. "Oh Branagan, I'm so sorry!" She buried her face into his neck as grief wracked her small frame. "I'm so very sorry!"

"Princess..."

Slowly, almost fearfully, Cerridwen lifted her face. She had to blink her eyes repeatedly to clear her tears. But there was no mistaking that his light-colored eyes were open and they were looking up at her. She brought a hand up to her mouth to keep her from sobbing so openly in happiness. But she couldn't help it. "Branagan!" She brought her lips down on his in a fierce kiss. "I thought you died," she sobbed, hugging him tightly and showering his face with even more kisses.

When she was sufficiently calm she gazed down at the assassin. She had never felt anything like this for anyone. It was so powerful and frightening at the same time.

"Princess..."

"Yes?" she said, lightly stroking his face, which thankfully wasn't damaged so much by the spell that Tatiana unleashed on him.

"Feral," he said weakly. "He was hit by the spell too."

Cerridwen's eyes immediately scanned the area. True enough, several meters away lay the body of the first knight, slumped against the cave wall. "Oh no!" She immediately looked down at Branagan. "I have to--"

"Go," the assassin coughed. "I'll be all right here."

The princess gently laid Branagan's head on the ground as she stood and approached Feral. She knelt beside him and at first just stared at him, waiting to see any sign of life. She was just about to move her hand to his wrist to feel for a pulse when the knight coughed and groaned but he remained unconscious. She was relieved beyond relief! She immediately planted a hand on his chest and began healing him. Soon enough, the ragged and erratic breathing eased. Feral's face, which earlier was contorted in pain, had also cleared.

Slowly, Feral's eyes opened. At first they had a blank look on them but then they registered surprise when he finally recognized the princess kneeling before him. He immediately straightened up, a bit surprised to see how easily he was able to do it with very little pain.

"Princess Cerridwen!"

"My lord," the princess said with a small nod of her head. "I hope you are feeling much better."

"Well, I...uhm--yes," he stammered. "I do feel a lot better. But how--?"

"I will explain later. For now I'll have to attend to Branagan."

"Branagan?"

"Yes, my lord," she said, turning her head to the side to look at the assassin. She was surprised to see that he was already in a sitting position, supported from behind by a kneeling Raven. She felt a sudden flash of jealousy. Her thoughts were interrupted when Feral called her name.

"What happened to Branagan?"

"He pushed you out of the sorceress' spell but he got caught in it instead, my lord."

Feral's eyebrows rose. "He did that?"

"Yes, my lord."

He turned to look at the assassin who was already smiling at him. He bared his teeth in irritation.

"My lord?" Cerridwen asked, puzzled by the expression of anger she saw on the knight's face.

Any further response from the knight was interrupted when yet another group of warriors suddenly appeared. Cerridwen turned to look at the new group, dreading the possibility that they might enemies.

"Sir Feral!" one of them cried out to the princess' relief. This one rushed to the side. "Are you okay, Sir?"

"I'm okay, Dax. Help me up."

Dax, another knight, promptly helped Feral up. Cerridwen stood as well and turned to walk towards Branagan and Raven.

"Princess."

She turned to face Feral. "My lord?"

"Please thank Branagan for me."

Cerridwen smiled. "I will, my lord."

---

Sunset, Faemie and Corneria stood rooted at the spot where the Dark Lord fell. All three were confounded by the fact that the spot was empty.

"I don't understand," Faemie said. "It was right here."

Eranelle and Vinen appeared as well at the priestess' side. "Faemie..."

"Yes, Eranelle, the body disappeared."

"But...how?"

"It is possible," Sunset began, "that it wasn't the real Dark Lord. The Dark Lord has many abilities. Perhaps this one was merely a Dark Illusion."

"Dark Illusion?" Corneria repeated.

"Yes, a copy of the real Dark Lord."

"So, that means that the Dark Lord is still alive," Eranelle mused, her expression pained.

"I'm afraid you may be right, little one," Sunset finished.

---

The next several days happened in a blur. At first, Cerridwen was horrified to learn that her father for the last several weeks was possessed by the Dark Lord, or his copy. It explained a lot of things for her, however, like the changes that had been happening and the fact that she got to see less of him of late.

So, it was with great relief when she returned to Prontera after a few days of rest in Geffen to spend time with her father, her real father. After much prodding, she reluctantly recounted to him her abduction and every detail of her adventure afterwards.

Fortunately, because the King had no real first hand experiences of the grief and anger he would have felt had he really been around, he couldn't bring himself to mete out a full sentence to the assassin, Branagan, for kidnapping and endangering his only daughter. Furthermore, upon learning that the assassin not only saved the princess more than once from certain death, almost forfeiting his own life in the process, he also did the same for Feral. This further reduced his sentence to almost nothing.

It was to Feral's eternal dismay that the story of Branagan's heroics had spread to the entire kingdom. His pride couldn't bear to acknowledge the fact that he owed his own life to such a cur. Add to this the fact that he had lost Cerridwen's love to that same uncultured cad. He often wondered whether he even had the princess' love to begin with.

"So," the King began as he glanced at his daughter walking alongside him in the garden, "when were you planning to tell me about your abilities?"

Cerridwen's eyes widened and then quickly looked away from her father. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this, Father."

The King smiled and drew the princess closer to him with the hand already draped around her shoulder. "Cerridwen," he said, kissing the top of her head, "I just want you to know that I'm proud of you."

The teenager looked up at her father and beamed. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I'm sorry you felt you needed to hide something like this from me."

"Well, I promise to never hide anything from you again."

Father and daughter shared a light laugh.

"So, Lady Stephanie trained you to be a priest?"

She nodded in response.

"And Lord Renthro taught you how to fight?"

The princess smiled. "He has begun to train Eranelle too. He says she's a natural."

The King nodded thoughtfully. After a few moments of reflection, he nudged his daughter. "So you're a battle priest, eh?"

Cerridwen blushed. "Yes, although Sunset Evestrom approached me and told me of the caste of Monks. She knows one living in Juno."

"Monks? I've heard of them. And you're saying you want to become one?"

"I'm not really sure but I'm really curious about them."

"Very well, you have my permission."

"Really?" Again the princess beamed as she hugged the King. "I can't wait!"

"Although, we'll have to provide another escort for you to Juno. I'm sending Sunset and Corneria on a mission to Glast Heim to investigate this Dark Lord."

The princess merely nodded, trying to conceal a smile forming on her lips.

"Do you have anybody in mind who can adequately protect you?" the King asked, already knowing the answer himself.

"I think I may have the perfect person who can accomplish that mission."

"Feral isn't very happy these days, you know."

Cerridwen sighed. "Sir Feral is kind and honorable..."

"But he's not your type."

"I can't say that he is, no."

The King laughed at this. He then sighed deeply.

"What is it, Father?" the princess asked, looking up at her father's face.

"It's just that you're growing up too fast."

"Don't worry, Father. I'll always be your little girl!" Both of them laughed once more.

Later that evening, as Cerridwen looked out her balcony, the same one from where she first met Branagan, she began to think of the days ahead. The Dark Lord was still out there. She didn't know how she fit into his evil schemes. One thing was certain however: she will know no peace until he is vanquished.

* * *

**Author's Note:** We've finally finished this story! We realize that this chapter took an extra long time to finish and my daughter and I have only our various other activities as an excuse. We hope you like it. Do drop us feedback if you do; if you don't, tell us anyway!

I know most of you who read this story will comment that we've left out a major loose end here plus we've introduced a couple of twists in the end, all of which hint at a possibility of a sequel. When we started this story we didn't realize that having only 5 chapters in a story would hardly be enough to cover all the angles. At this point, we'll have to gauge the interest to decide whether to actually write a sequel. In the meantime, you guys will have to do what we do: use our imagination!

Peace!


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